


Something Kinky This Way Cums: Part 1 (Kinktober 2018)

by CavalierRick



Series: Kinktober 2018 [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Angry Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Arguing, Begging, Belts, Biting, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottom Jack, Bottom Tim, Chapter 2 contains:, Cock Worship, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, Corsetry, Cowgirl Position, Crying, Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Desperation, Dom Jack, Drunk Sex, Dry Humping, Edgeplay, Face-Fucking, Facials, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jealousy, Latex, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Marijuana, Mild Blood, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Injuries, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Muscles, Office Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Panties, Pet Play, Power Bottom Rhys, Praise Kink, Premature Ejaculation, Punishment, Recreational Drug Use, Revenge Sex, Rhys as Jack's PA, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sensory Deprivation, Shotgunning, Smoking, Socks, Spanking, Spitroasting, Spreader Bars, Sthenolagnia, Strength, Strength Kink, Stuffing, Sub Rhys, Teasing, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Rhys, Under-negotiated Kink, Verbal Humiliation, Watersports, chapter 1 contains:, chapter 10 contains, chapter 11 contains:, chapter 12 contains:, chapter 3 contains:, chapter 4 contains:, chapter 5 contains:, chapter 6 contains:, chapter 7, chapter 8 contains:, chapter 9 contains:, kitten play, verbal humiliation. again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierRick/pseuds/CavalierRick
Summary: This is gonna be a wild collection of stuff :D Tags will be updated with each new chapteroh yea also also. theres no cohesive narrative between the chapters, they're all standalone, so if you dont think you'll like the content of any specific chapter then feel free to skip it ^^EDIT: I've decided that I'm gonna split this up into 2 parts because the amount of tags is frankly making them a little illegible XDD





	1. Day 1: Deepthroating

**Author's Note:**

> The first day!! How exciting :3c hopefully I can actually get all of these uploaded on the proper day, but I'm going to write each day regardless and if I can't finish it by the end of that day then I'm going to upload it later. shhhh no one needs to know that im cheating XDD
> 
> None of these will be beta read and only sloppily proofread because iiiii dont got time for that XDD I'll probably read over them and amend them later if need be, but for now there's no time XD

Much to his constant surprise, Rhys had somehow managed to climb the corporate ranks enough to become Jack's PA.

It had been his dream job ever since the first time he had seen the older man. Sure, Rhys would admit that he was a little obsessed-- had been ever since he had first accidentally gazed into those beautiful mismatched eyes-- and sure, he could own up to being a hopeless fanboy, but he had always known that he would be the right fit for the job. Despite being a bit featherbrained, Rhys was fairly organized. Maybe his apartment was a pigsty, clothes strewn on the floor and bed constantly unmade, but when it came to his work he tended to keep everything neat and tidy. Not to mention that he was _made_ for clerical work. Even Vaughn couldn't hold a candle to Rhys when it came to his innate ability to do menial tasks for eight hours a day. Plus, with his cybernetic arm, Rhys was able to type at a breakneck speed, and the automatic spellchecker he had programmed into his ECHOeye saved him from revising most of his work more than once. All in all, he had _expected_ Jack to hire him one day.

Handsome Jack, on the other hand, didn't care much for skill. “Skill is how lazy people excuse being lazy.” Rhys had heard him say it more than once, the first time being at his interview. He had informed Jack that he was 'exceptionally skilled,' and the older man had shot him a dirty look over the rim of his reading glasses. “Skill is bullshit,” the CEO told him calmly. “Real success comes from work, not from skill.”

Rhys had since lived by those words, throwing himself into his work for the first few months of his employment. He was, in truth, exemplary. He was also working much harder than necessary. Jack was a workaholic, handling most of his engagements completely on his own, either ignoring his PA or shooing him off like a pesky fly. Still, though, Rhys had kept at it with a devotion which surprised his employer.

After nearly a full season had passed, Rhys's performance began to slip. Jack had always been known to be flirtatious, but his incessant teasing only became more and more frequent as time went on. Eventually, Rhys had started to catch his boss eyeing him up instead of reviewing new patents or discussing distribution of Hyperion's new line of sniper rifles. Rhys was increasingly expected to pick up the slack to allow Jack to lounge in his desk chair and leer at him, and eventually he was no longer able to put up with it.

Maybe it would be a mistake to try to reason with a man like Handsome Jack-- hell, in all reality it sounded completely insane to even try. Rhys had been shaking when he came into work today, wringing his hands anxiously as he approached his boss's desk. There's a long moment of silence as Jack shuffles papers, trying to look busy, before he finally looks up at Rhys.

There's a look of obviously fake surprise on the older man's face once he finally looks up. “Oh, Rhys, there you are,” he chimes, a wide grin stretching across his face. “I didn't hear you come in. Here, take a seat. Let's talk.” He rolls back his chair and pats at his thighs invitingly, letting out a guffaw of laughter as his PA's cheeks light up bright red.

“I am not doing that,” Rhys breathes. His brain is frazzled; Jack is just smiling at him and holding his arms to the sides as if he's expecting a hug. “I need to talk to you.”

Jack looks defeated. It's a thing Rhys has scarcely seen since beginning his employment in his new job; the CEO looks completely crestfallen, a real honest-to-god pout on his lips. He huffs, rolling his chair back in and resting an elbow on the desk. “Fine,” he mutters. “What is this about?”

Rhys opens and closes his mouth several times in succession as he tries to find the right words. “You've obviously been... _distracted_ lately,” he states finally, watching Jack's face to try to gauge his reaction. “You keep throwing work on top of me that you would usually be doing yourself.”

“I'm your boss, Rhys. I can do that.”

“Let me finish.” The words come out of his mouth with much more conviction than Rhys feels like he possesses, and he's shocked when Jack goes silent with a nod for him to continue. “I know what's going on,” he says calmly, biting his lip to curb his anxiety as he sees Jack raise an eyebrow in interest. “The way you've been looking at me lately? The... things you've been saying to me?” He can't help but go red at the memories, and the way that Jack is now grinning at him doesn't help. “I-if you want to...” He glances away, the words suddenly stuck in his throat. “If you want to have sex with me, you can just say that,” he finally blurts out. He wants to sink into the floor and disappear when Jack just responds by doubling over laughing.

As soon as he's finished coughing his lungs up as aftermath of his little laughing attack, Jack finally straightens up in his chair. He's sniffling, wiping at the corners of his eyes as he fights back a few residual chuckles. “ _That's_ what you think this is?” he asks finally, his voice hoarse now. “Seriously, you think that I'm slacking on work because I'm sitting here all day mentally undressing you?” He snorts out another laugh. “Honey, you're pretty, but you aren't _that_ pretty.”

Rhys's body flushes hot with shame. He starts to shake again, worried his legs will give out from under him. “I-I'm sorry,” he stammers out, but Jack just raises a hand to him.

“Rhys.” The CEO sounds calm, and he gives Rhys a very sincere look. “I'm sorry if I've been making you uncomfortable with that kinda stuff, okay? That's not why I've been handing shit off to you, though.” He grabs the base of his holographic monitor and turns it around so that Rhys can see it. The screen displays a frankly startling amount of code, the window zoomed out far enough that Rhys can fully appreciate just how much off it Jack's written. “Been busy,” the older man says finally, huffing out a laugh.

Rhys is stunned for a moment. “That... doesn't explain why you've been eyeing me up,” he says after a while, Jack rotating his monitor back around.

Jack just shrugs nonchalantly. “You write code sometimes, don't you?” Rhys nods. “You ever get to the point where you just get so _fuckin' bored_ that you could literally stare at a blank wall for three hours and it would feel more productive than continuing to write?” Rhys frowns as he realizes where Jack is going. “It's like that, except that you're way more fun to look at.”

Immediately, Rhys isn't sure whether or not he should be offended. The look on his face must reflect it, as Jack just smiles as he waits for a response. “You've been pawning work off on me so you can work on a personal project?” The words surprise even Rhys; usually no one would be so bold as to suggest that Handsome Jack himself was slacking from work.

A soft hum of thought from the older man actually surprises Rhys. “I guess you could call it a 'personal project,' if that's how you want to see it.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. “I'm trying to find a way to code a new stabilizer system so that we can start making rocket launchers. It's kind of a headache, but can you imagine?” He hops up from his chair and aims a pretend rocket launcher at the far wall, a childishly giddy smile on his face. “Seriously, Rhys. A rocket launcher than can reliably hit what you're aiming at without the goddamn recoil taking your shoulder out?” He mimics the sound of his imaginary weapon 'shooting' a projectile at the far wall, throwing his arms above his air in celebration and cheering as the 'missile' hits its pretend target. “Fuckin' hole in one, baby! _Game changer_.” He sits down in his chair so hard that he sets is spinning a full 360 before he stops it with his feet.

Rhys is shocked into silence for a long moment. “Hyperion _rocket launchers_?” He's in disbelief, but Jack just nods enthusiastically. “Jesus,” the younger man breathes out, “no wonder you've been so busy with it. Coding a new stabilizer for a fucking _rocket launcher_ must be a nightmare.”

“Oh, it sure is baby,” Jack huffs out. “I'm good at what I do, Rhysie, but I'm no miracle worker. It could take me a fuckin' year to work this out, and the guys down in R&D are dragging their goddamn feet because _of course_ they are. So, yknow, most of it falls on me. If you want something done right and all that.” He actually gives Rhys a surprising apologetic smile. “I don't mean to overwork you, sweetheart, but the pressure is on for me and you're gonna have to take some of it on. Either that or I'm gonna give myself a friggin' heart attack, and I'm not old enough for that.”

Although Rhys is still somewhat annoyed at how hard Jack has been working him, he does feel relieved at knowing his reasoning. “I'm glad that you aren't just taking time off to daydream about me,” the younger man deadpans, both he and the CEO smiling in response.

“It isn't _just_ that,” Jack responds, kicking his feet up on the desk. “Gotta admit, you do distract me sometimes.” The grin on his face stretches wider as Rhys somehow goes even redder. “I mean, I'm good at my job but I'm not _perfect_. My mind wanders sometimes, especially when someone as cute as you is around.”

Jack seems to notice as Rhys tenses, and he finally leans forward to give the younger man a serious look. He crosses his arms over the desk and locks eyes with his employee. “Do you want me to stop?” The question catches Rhys off guard, and as he doesn't answer it seems to prompt Jack to keep talking. “Look, I know how I come off sometimes but I do actually have an idea of how to be respectful. Yknow, sometimes. When it comes to some things. I'll stop.”

“No,” Rhys finally responds, finding himself laughing as Jack flounders for the right words. “I didn't say I didn't like it. It's just... distracting.”

The CEO's eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Distracting?” he parrots back, seeming almost shocked. “Distracting in what way, pumpkin? Not the 'I hate it' kind of distracting?”

Rhys shakes his head. “No, no! I don't hate it, not by any means!” He glances away in embarrassment for a second, shuffling his feet. “You looking at me like that, flirting with me the way you do, it just... makes me _think_ , if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Jack purrs back at him. “Likewise, kitten. You just being around me makes me _think_.” He winks at Rhys as soon as the younger man dares to look back up, earning him a little choke of shock.

“I thought you were just like this with everyone.”

Jack shrugs, a quiet laugh escaping him. “Sure, I flirt a lot, that much is true,” he responds as he swivels his chair from side to side, “but usually that has no real interest behind it. I just like to see people get all flustered when _the_ Handsome Jack starts getting all... _Handsome Jack-y_.”

“You do have such a way with words,” Rhys teases, struggling to keep himself from well and truly giggling. He smooths his hair back, tucking a loose strand behind his ear, suddenly self conscious. “You don't really mean that, though, I'm sure.”

Jack chuckles as he starts to tap his feet almost impatiently under his desk. “And why not? You think you're not pretty enough, princess?”

Rhys whimpers as Jack's teasing sends a shiver down his spine. Although he would never admit it, Jack's little pet names for him have always driven him wild, especially when he hears the older man call him 'princess' in that almost demeaning tone. “I-I'm nowhere near as good-looking as you,” he answers, his voice shaky as he watches Jack appraising him. “I just don't know why you would settle for someone like me wh--”

“Settle?” Jack stands up from his chair and starts to walk around the desk. “Baby, Handsome Jack does not _settle_.” He rests a hand on his PA's shoulder, giving him a winning smile. “Don't you worry your pretty little head, pumpkin. _No one_ is as good-looking as me. I'm _Handsome Jack._ ”

“Why me?” is all that Rhys can manage, his heart rate picking up at being so near to the object of his obsession, and of so many of his wet dreams. He's even more attractive up close.

Jack just shrugs noncommittally. “Why not?” he answers simply. “You're cute as hell, good at what you do, a hard worker. You actually keep me in check when I'm losing my mind, which very few people have ever managed to do.” He huffs a laugh, seeming distracted as he gazes into Rhys's eyes. “You're so sexy when you get all logical and rational with me, you know that?” He can't help but snort in amusement as Rhys gasps. “Seriously, though,” the CEO continues, starting to rub slow circles into Rhys's shoulder with his thumb. “You don't give yourself enough credit, kiddo. You're the whole package. Smart and cute and funny, and I'm sure damn sexy under those snazzy clothes.”

After what feels like forever, Jack backs away and sits on the edge of his desk, leaning back and bracing himself on his hands as he kicks his feet gently, waiting for Rhys to respond with something more coherent than the little whines coming from him.

“It just seems like you're settling,” the younger man finally chokes out. “Sure, _maybe_ I'm all those things you said, _maybe_ , but I'm so awkward and lanky and clumsy. Like, I spilled coffee all over my keyboard last week and you laughed at me, and there was that one time my fly was down when I came in and you just kept laughing at me because I didn't know and--”

“Holy crap, hold up, kid.” Jack stands up from his little perch on the side of his desk and waves for Rhys to follow him over to the sitting area which hides his personal airlock. Despite the way Rhys's heart starts to thump in anxiety, he acquiesces. “Listen,” Jack flops down on the couch and splays out comfortably on the plush leather. “Rhysie, I know I can be a little mean sometimes but I don't laugh at you because I think you're awkward or whatever else you said. It just makes me happy to see you acting all... yknow, cute and shit.”

The younger man sits down carefully, glad to finally be off his feet and free of the worry that he's going to collapse from the weakness in his knees. “You just seem kind of different lately and I'm worried that maybe you've gone on a bender or something and that as soon as you're sober again you'll realize you aren't actually interested after all.”

“'On a bender,' huh?” He puts his arm over the back of the couch behind Rhys's shoulders, giving him a cocky grin as the younger man turns shyly to look at him. “Kiddo, I would still want you whether I'm high or not. I mean, I'm not. Not right now at least.” He scoots closer, in Rhys's personal space now, close enough for the younger man to clearly hear his breathing. “You wanna know why I've been acting different? I'll be honest with you if you wanna know.”

Rhys has shrunk back into the corner of the couch as Jack closes in, trying to ignore the thrill running through him at the feeling of Jack's presence. “S-sure,” he answers, crossing his arms over his lap as he feels the heat of arousal flare in him. “I want to know.”

Jack chuckles, a small dusting of pink spreading out at the corners of his mask, a look of something akin to shyness in his eyes. “Look, if it ever gets back to me that you've told someone else about this, I'm gonna personally airlock you.” Although Rhys has to take Jack at least somewhat seriously, there's no real conviction behind his words. Still, Rhys swears to him that he won't tell a soul. Only then does Jack heave a sigh and lean in even closer, his face only inches from Rhys's as he leans in to whisper into his ear.

There's a long moment of silence as Jack just breathes against Rhys's neck and watches him for a reaction before he finally speaks. “I'm fuckin' _horny_ , Rhys,” he answers finally, his voice low and dangerous. “Like I said, no one else needs to know this,” he continues, pressing closer to his PA, wrapping his arm fully around the younger man's shoulders and resting his other hand on Rhys's thigh, “but the truth is that I've been having a bit of a dry spell recently. I need to get laid, baby.”

Rhys grits his teeth as he tries to stifle a needy whine, spreading his knees apart as his boss slowly reaches his hand up his thigh. He gently grabs at Jack's wrist, not sure whether to stop him or encourage him. The older man pauses, looking up at Rhys in concern. “Need me to stop?” The sincerity in the CEO's tone is so startling compared to his usual cocky, aloof crap that it actually gives Rhys a momentary pause. The younger man shakes his head, biting his lip and releasing his hold on Jack, starting to pant quietly.

“What do you want me to do?” Rhys's tone is surprisingly innocent. He leans against Jack, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck to ground himself as Jack starts to palm at his cock through his slacks. He noses into his boss's hair, struggling to keep himself from whining in need at the older man's touch.

Jack hums in thought, playing with Rhys's growing erection as he seems to think about his answer. “Well, we're not doing anything you aren't comfortable with, of course,” he says almost noncommittally. “You can choose what we do, if you really want. I can definitely think of some stuff that I would be up for, but I'm a magnanimous kinda guy, don't wanna make this all about what _I_ want.”

Although he doesn't really feel the confidence that he seems to display, Rhys pushes Jack against the back of the couch and straddles him. He starts to unbutton his shirt, not even bothering to pull his tie off before he throws the button-up to the floor behind him. Jack seems amused, just leaning back on the couch and watching as Rhys fumbles with his belt.

A pleased little thrill runs up his spine as Rhys drops to his knees and pushes Jack's legs apart, earning him a hilarious and amazingly satisfying flinch of surprise from the older man. Rhys had secretly-- or not so secretly, if one were to ask Vaughn-- been hoping for years that he would one day have this opportunity. He just stares up at Jack for a long few moments, relishing the view. He swears that he could cum just from this, maybe with a little pressure on his cock from the toe of Jack's sexy boots, but really the view alone could get him off. He really can't help but feel like all of his wildest wet dreams are coming true.

Rhys trails his fingers up Jack's thighs as slowly as he dares, taking his time as if he's savoring it. If he's honest with himself, he really is. The minuscule changes in Jack's expression as Rhys works his way up are somehow wildly erotic to the younger man. He can see the effect he's having on his boss, Jack's gaze hardening into a look of pure, unadulterated lust as he stares Rhys down like prey.

As soon as the warm metal of Rhys's cybernetic hand puts pressure against Jack's clothed prick, the older man lets out a soft hiss of arousal. He reaches to undo his belt while Rhys undoes his fly for him, pulling his cock out and studying it. He's still only halfway hard and he's already almost twice Rhys's size, a fact that brings him a pang of embarrassment. He's also surprisingly thick, and Rhys knows that it'll be one hell of a challenge to take all of him now that he's actually fully processed what he's gotten himself into. He gives the older man a curious stroke, watching as a thick drip of clear natural lubricant slides down his slit and over his swollen shaft. He gently collects the precum on what would be the flesh of his thumb, rubbing the smooth metal up Jack's frenulum and teasing at the head of his cock gently.

“You just on your knees to give me a handjob, kiddo?” Although Jack's tone is gently mocking, his eyes are full of lust that he's unable to hide, and his cock twitches in Rhys's hand as his PA looks up at him from under his long lashes. At that, Rhys lets his mouth hang open and his tongue loll out, gently pressing it against the underside of the older man's cock head. The musky taste of Jack's precum nearly makes Rhys moan aloud; it's been quite a while since Rhys has had a cock down his throat, and the taste spurs him on to slacken his jaw and take the whole head into his mouth.

Jack lets out a groan, reaching down to gently press his hand against the back of Rhys's head, urging him onward. Rhys glances up at his boss, fluttering his lashes as his eyes meet with Jack's. With almost no effort, the younger man opens his throat and slowly lowers himself down until his nose is pressed hard against Jack's stomach. He tentatively swallows, struggling to keep himself from choking, but is able to masterfully control his gag reflex. He stays there for just long enough to slick Jack's cock with his saliva, then pulling back to start bobbing his head. Turns out, he thinks, that he's still damn good at this despite the lapse in practice.

As much as he tries to hold it back, Jack lets out a shamefully lusty moan, his head tipping back as his fingers knot in Rhys's hair. His hips buck upwards of their own accord, the blunt head of his cock hitting the back of the younger man's throat. Although he chokes slightly, he surprisingly still keeps himself from actually gagging. Jack lets go of his hair, expecting him to pull always to get a breath and clear his throat, but instead Rhys just lowers himself back down. He gently and carefully grazes his teeth over the thick shaft of Jack's cock as he pulls back, making the older man whimper in a rather uncharacteristic way.

Once Rhys has pulled away for a breath of air, Jack reaches down and grabs his chin to tilt his head back. The younger man's beautiful heterochromic eyes are misted with tears, thick drips of spit trailing down his chin and his reddened lips glistening. Just the sight of his adorable PA already looking so wrecked and used makes heat flare in Jack's stomach, his cock twitching as he leans forward to rest the underside of it against the younger man's cheek.

“You're goddamn good at this,” Jack breathes, Rhys flicking his tongue at the side of his boss's prick. “You've obviously had some practice, huh kitten? How many people did ya have to blow just to get this job, I wonder.” Rhys only answers by wrapping his robotic fingers around the base of Jack's cock, giving it a hard squeeze before opening his mouth and slapping the head of it against his own tongue. Jack is shocked into silence, his eyes locked intensely with Rhys's.

This officially breaks what little composure Jack had left. He swats Rhys's hand away, forcing the head of his cock between Rhys's plump lips. He grabs at the sides of the younger man's head, his right thumb caressing the cybernetic port on Rhys's temple as he thrusts himself down his PA's throat. Rhys lets out a pitiful moan, one that's muffled and choked out.

When Jack pushes him away in favor of standing, Rhys can guess what's about to happen. The CEO grabs hard at the younger man's hair and pulls him in so hard that it sends a blaze of pain in Rhys's scalp. Jack thrusts at the same time, driving himself all the way to the hilt and slamming his cock into the wall of Rhys's esophagus. It's much more violent than before, and finally Rhys gags weakly, tears starting to run down his cheeks.

Jack sets up a brutal pace of hard, fast thrusts, nearly ripping handfuls of the younger man's hair out as he pulls his head forward and back in rhythm with his hips. Rhys starts to think that there's a good chance he won't be able to keep up with this kind of brutal treatment, his throat aching, hardly able to control his gag reflex anymore. He starts to hit his palm against Jack's thigh, his lungs burning for air, but the man above him doesn't seem to notice through the pleasure driving him on.

Just when Rhys's eyes start to roll back in his head, Jack finally pulls back. He withdraws so quickly that Rhys's throat is burning even worse than it had been, and he draws in a quick, shaking breath. He starts to cough, trying to clear his throat, but Jack grabs him by the hair and forces his head back. He growls out a command for Rhys to open his mouth, which he obeys as soon as he's no longer choking. Jack is fucking into his own fist in desperation, biting his lip to hold back the needy moans threatening to spill from his throat. Rhys sticks his tongue out, flicking it at Jack's slit gently.

The soft caress of his PA's velvety tongue is what finally sets Jack over the edge. His hips buck erratically as thick shots of cum paint Rhys's face, forcing him to close his eyes. Jack can't help himself anymore and starts to whine and moan, his head thrown back as he pants and whimpers, his legs shaking as he strokes himself through his climax.

As soon as he looks down, Jack's eyes go wide. His cum is streaked over his employee's face, several thick white ropes of it dripping down the left side of Rhys's face and several shots of it in his gelled back hair. The younger man has already swallowed what little of Jack's load had actually made it into his mouth, some of it dribbling down his chin as his aching throat makes him cough some of it back up.

Surprisingly, Jack is rather apologetic. He tucks his spent cock back into his pants before rushing to his desk and grabbing a handful of tissues. Rhys accepts them gratefully and starts to clean himself up, eyes on the floor in a vain attempt to hide the shameful blush on his face.

Jack crouches down so that he's eye to eye with Rhys, taking the tissues from him as soon as he's finished wiping the cum off of his face, balling them up and shooting them towards the garbage can. Although the wad of paper bounces off of the rim, he doesn't seem to mind and instead turns back to his PA. “You alright?” he asks, eyebrows raised. Rhys just nods, his throat feeling too raw to speak. Jack gently presses his hand against the younger man's cheek, rubbing his thumb just under the corner of Rhys's left eye to wipe away another forming tear.

Rhys almost flinches in shock as Jack pants a gentle kiss against his forehead. There's a moment when their eyes meet and Jack gives him a shy, almost apologetic smile, but it doesn't last long before the spell is broken. The CEO stands, motioning for Rhys to follow suit. “You've got work to do,” he says dryly, crossing his arms as he studies his PA. He can't help but notice the obvious tenting in Rhys's slacks, a huff of a laugh escaping him at the sight. “You can take care of that before you get back to it though, huh? Maybe jerk off under your desk so I can hear all those cute little noises you make.” He winks, and Rhys realizes that the prospect of it actually sounds... exhilarating.

It takes no time at all for Rhys to reach his climax after having sat back down in his leather chair. He shoots several ropes of cum into his hand and onto the floor under him. All the while, as he's lying his head heavily on his desk and trying to catch his breath, he can feel Jack's eyes on him, and he suspects that it won't be long before his boss demands a round two.

 


	2. Day 2: Begging/Watersports

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write Jack a liiiiittle bit meaner in this one than I usually write him. Only a little XD Don't want him being too mean to Rhys, I don't think the poor boy could take it :P
> 
> Also, I recently heard that sometimes programmers will have a little rubber ducky that they talk to to try to find issues with their code and I obviously can't confirm that that's true, but imagine Handsome Jack talking to a little rubber duck. And probably getting mad at it and throwing it across the room. You KNOW I had to make a reference to that in a fic as soon as I heard it XD

Handsome Jack has taken a habit to calling Rhys away from his work lately. Usually it's for no other reason than for the Helios President to sit and keep him company, give him someone to bounce ideas off of, and he's glad for Rhys to quietly help him check over lines of code. Explaining his projects to another human being instead of to open air or a rubber duck feels much less frustrating. Doubly so based on the fact that his right hand man is at least well enough versed in coding to help him troubleshoot it.

Occasionally, the two have sex during these little visits. It isn't exactly common, as Jack has enough on his plate just trying to optimize the newest Hyperion OS, and it isn't exactly helpful to his work to fuck his President over his desk. A few times Jack asks (or more so, demands) Rhys to get on his knees and give him head while he types away above him. Once, they even try having Rhys ride him in his desk chair while Jack cranes his neck to see his monitor and keyboard, trying to keep working while Rhys bounces on his dick. In theory it's an alright idea, but in reality it has ended up just being uncomfortable and inconvenient, and in the end Jack just kicks Rhys out in sheer frustration. He jerks himself off angrily under his desk, his other hand slowly hunting and pecking at his keyboard as he struggles to hold focus. The next day when he goes to review it, the code is nearly nonsensical. He ends up having to rewrite most of it, and he can't help but feel bitter towards Rhys for disrupting his work. Yeah, maybe it was Jack's idea, but as if he would ever admit he's the one to blame.

He feels some need to get back at Rhys for taking up so much of his time. Preferably, he wants to choose something that isn't going to be too involved. No spanking, then, and orgasm denial would take up too much of Jack's attention. He gives it a lot of thought throughout the day, eventually realizing that he's thinking too much about Rhys to be able to focus on his work.

This is when Jack decides that he has to give in and call the little asshole into his office. He still has no clear grasp on what exactly he's going to do, he just knows that he wants to somehow humiliate and wreck his little kitten. He begins to formulate a plan when Rhys pushes open the door to his office, glancing in almost nervously before coming in to stand before the CEO.

Rhys is holding a cocktail in his metal hand. Immediately this confuses Jack, though only for a moment; the time for brunch has just come and gone, and most office workers aboard Helios tend to start drinking early. The older man just hums. He didn't know that Rhys was a drinker.

“Long Island iced tea?” He smiles up at Rhys and holds his hands under his chin, propping his head up with his elbows braced on his desk. “What, you havin' a day at the beach today, kiddo?”

Rhys frowns. “Can't it just be a normal iced tea? Maybe I just like tea.” He takes a long sip from it without breaking eye contact with his boss. “It's very _refreshing_.”

Jack can't stop himself from rolling his eyes. “I can smell the vodka in that from here,” he comments absently. “Just don't get piss drunk in my office.”

A sudden realization hits him. He hasn't done anything like that in years, not since his little tryst with Nisha. He can't help but smirk at the memories of it, the look on his face seeming to instinctively make Rhys nervous.

Rather suddenly, the CEO looks up. “Under my desk,” he snaps, and Rhys actually flinches at the aggressive tone of his voice. He rolls his chair out enough for Rhys to take a place between his boss's knees, sitting his drink on the desk above him as he does. Without instruction from the older man, he starts to work at Jack's belt and zipper, though he's surprised when Jack presses his foot against his chest and pushes him back into the wall of the desk.

“Frickin' stay there,” he grumbles, turning to fish through the desk drawer to his right, frowning in annoyance. After a moment, Jack fishes out a pair of handcuffs, throwing them onto the floor next to Rhys, the sound of metal against tile making him flinch. He looks over at the things, eyes wide and anxious. He's never tried something quite like this before; sure Jack's asked him to keep his arms behind his back, but it's always been of his own volition, where he was still able to disobey if he needed to.

Suddenly, the alcoholic iced tea is thrust back in front of him. “Drink,” the older man orders, and by the growling tone of his voice Rhys knows that it would likely result in his death should he not do as he's told. He takes the cold glass in his hands, Jack suddenly standing and walking off somewhere while Rhys downs the rest of his drink in the meantime. The burn through his throat and stomach makes him seriously hope that Jack isn't just trying to get him drunk. Granted, the _drunk_ part he isn't so worried about. If he's honest to himself, the idea of giving the CEO a sloppy, drunk blowjob is actually pretty goddamn hot. His problem with it is the hangover he'd be nursing the next day, and he really couldn't afford that.

Two bottles of water are thrown down at Rhys's knees, and as he looks up he see's Jack's intense gaze burning into his. “Those too,” he orders. He gives no further instruction, and Rhys starts to finally catch on. He'd seen videos of people doing this type of thing on the ECHOnet before, but he had never had any interest in trying it; generally he didn't like _messy_ , and if his suspicion was correct, things were about to get pretty uncomfortably messy. A hard kick to the side of Rhys's leg draws him back to reality, his eyes wide as he looks back up. “I said _drink_.”

Rhys obeys immediately now. He takes one of the bottles in hand and uncaps it, pressing it to his lips as he watches Jack turn his attention back to his work. Luckily, it isn't really as much water as it had seemed at first. By the time he finishes the second one his stomach feels pretty full, but it isn't altogether unpleasant. He anxiously calls up to Jack, not wanting to anger him, but the CEO looks pleasantly surprised as he glances down to see that his pet has finished drinking. He throws both of the plastic bottles away, Rhys requesting to him meekly that he should recycle them instead, which Jack only acknowledges with a shrug and a smug smile.

As soon as Jack returns to his bright yellow desk chair, he reaches down to latch the cuffs snugly behind Rhys's back. The younger man wiggles a little to test them; although the metal is strong and would be annoying to slip his wrists through, Jack had actually left them loose enough for him to pull himself free if he needs to. Rhys anxiously wonders if this is Jack testing him in some way, to see if he would be bold enough to try to escape. Or, maybe it's just out of courtesy.. The next words Jack speaks to him, though, make him suspect the latter.

“I'm not gonna put a gag on ya, okay? So if you need to safeword, just say so, kiddo.” He actually gives him a playful little wink before scooting his chair in ever so slightly and starting to tap away at his keyboard again.

Rhys blinks, a little shocked. He just sits there on his knees, listening to the clacking as Jack writes line after line of code. The new OS will probably be amazing, he thinks absently. He feels for a moment as if the situation is completely normal, just sitting there as he listens to the familiar sound of a keyboard and occasional mouse clicks. It isn't really all that different of a feeling from sitting in his cubicle as he and his coworkers all work on their respective projects. Of course, there are cuffs around his wrists and he's expected to piss all over himself, but that part would come later.

After several long moments, as Rhys's legs start to go numb, he leans forward and rests his chin in Jack's lap, leaning forward so that his weight has shifted to remove the pressure on his thighs. Jack looks down with one eyebrow raised, gaze quizzical although he says nothing.

“I'm bored,” Rhys mumbles, giving his boss a pout.

There's a moment where Jack can't help but smile, though his expression quickly becomes one of annoyance, and he pushes Rhys by his forehead back under the desk. The younger man huffs as he sits back again.

“Good,” Jack says to him, having bent down to give him a look of indignation. “You aren't supposed to _like this_ , Rhys. Be bored.” He waves his hand at the younger man dismissively before he resumes his programming.

Within the next few minutes, Rhys becomes uncomfortably aware of a small pressure in his bladder. At first he can easily ignore it, but as he shifts his weight between his knees he can feel it. He's suddenly taken completely out of the strange, comfortable normality of the past ten or so minutes, and he's acutely aware once again of what's coming.

Jack has seemingly forgotten that Rhys is even there. He's just tapping away at keys almost frantically, and Rhys knows just from the sound that he's on a roll now, lost in his work. It somehow comforts him, albeit not much, since he now wants to just disappear. He's anxious at the very idea of how Jack will look at him when he does glance down and sees the state that he's in. Rhys starts to wiggle uncomfortably, and he can only imagine the chiding tone his boss is going to take with him whenever he decides to start the teasing.

Rather suddenly, Jack leans back, rolling his chair out a little, leaning down to study Rhys “Yo, kiddo, how ya doin'?” His tone isn't nearly as humiliation-inducing as the younger man has been expecting. He sounds casual, almost friendly, and his expression is lacking all of the impatience Rhys assumes he will see.

“Uh, I'm a little uncomfortable,” Rhys admits a bit reluctantly. He has to bite his lip, his thighs tensing as he gets a pang in his bladder. “Do I have to stay here and...”

“And piss all over your damn self,” Jack snaps, his tone now hard and cold. “This is what happens when you get in the way of my work, Rhys.” He slides out of his chair and crouches down on the tile in front of the younger man, practically growling at him. One of his hands comes to Rhys's throat, not squeezing, but still giving him a firm reminder that the CEO could easily end his life. “You're not getting out of here until you do.”

Rhys once again feels completely horrified. He's of course known that this was the case, but Jack saying it to him so directly makes it feel much more real, especially with such a direct threat to back it up. “Yes, sir,” Rhys breathes, hoping his voice isn't shaking as much as he feels like it is. Jack seems pleased, going back to his coding and leaving Rhys ignored once again.

He knows that he can slip out of the cuffs if he needs to. Jack has already told him that he can safeword. Both of those things abate his anxiety a bit, but he still can't shake the feeling that if he does back out then he'll only be punished more severely. Then again, maybe Jack has always seemed to be much more considerate during sex than he is at any other time. He still has the same dangerous air as the infamous _Handsome Jack_ is known for, but he's choosing not to be quite so intimidating, and Rhys can't help but be thankful for it. His anxiety would be tenfold if he had Jack yelling and swearing at him. Well, more than Jack normally yells and swears at people, at the least.

After what feels like forever, Rhys lets out a pitiful whine that he can't hold back. He leans forward to lay his forehead against Jack's knee, shifting against the pressure and jolts of pain. He feels like crying when Jack rolls his chair back to study him once again. The CEO just stares, frowning, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He rests his head in his hands, drumming his fingers against his jawline as he starts to smirk. Rhys is wiggling, biting his lip again, letting out little groans.

“Go ahead,”' Jack commands, his tone full of mirth, his expression becoming one of pure smugness. “Come on, baby. You wanna please me, right?”

He does. He absolutely does. He loves to please Jack, loves to see that look of lust in his eyes focused only on him. He briefly considers it, and just the thought of finally emptying his bladder makes it much harder to resist. He squirms one more time before he looks pointedly away from Jack and finally gives in.

There's a giddy smile on Jack's face as he watches his pet. What starts as a small patch of wetness at the inside of Rhys's thigh spreads down most of the leg of his pants, and a puddle begins to form on the expensive tile under him only seconds later. Jack can hear Rhys sobbing in embarrassment, his eyes squeezed shut and tears streaking down his face.

Rhys realizes quickly that the feeling of his piss drenching his pants is admittedly rather pleasant in a way. The relief of finally letting it out draws a heavy sigh from him, even through his tears. He starts to shake as the steady stream slows slightly, and once he has completely emptied his bladder he's hit with the full realization that he's sitting there, drenched, with a puddle under him. He risks a glance down at himself and a fresh wave of tears comes to his eyes. Jack has said nothing, but is now glaring at him, any humor in his eyes gone.

“You're fucking disgusting, Rhys.” The authoritative, cruel voice above him forces the President to look up. “This is fucking shameful. What do you think the other execs would think if they knew about this, huh? Ya think anyone would still follow your commands if they knew you were a disgusting little slut? That you only have your job because you're willing to fuck me and piss all over my floor?” He scoots his chair in, leaning over, getting close enough for Rhys to feel the CEO's breath on his neck. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

The harsh words cut into Rhys and make him double over, sobbing. He _is_ ashamed. He's never felt so ashamed in his life. He isn't sure now that he should have gone through with this. He feels the wetness in his slacks start to chill, and he's immediately even more uncomfortable.

It catches him off guard when Jack grabs Rhys by the throat again and forces the younger man to make eye contact with him. “You're gonna stay there until I finish this,” he announces coldly. “After that, you're gonna suck my cock and get out of my goddamn office. Ya got that, kitten?” Rhys can only nod, stunned into silence as he fights not to sniffle or whimper as tears roll down his cheeks.

Jack reaches out with one hand and wipes at Rhys's face gently, collecting the wetness of his tears onto his thumb before pushing it into the younger man's mouth. He smirks as his pet starts to obediently suck and lick at his skin, though the moment is over before it can really bring Rhys and comfort, and he's once again left alone.

It's nearly an hour before Jack has finally finished with his work. As soon as he's satisfied with whatever he's been doing, he lets out a heavy yawn and stands from his chair with a mighty stretch. He takes a few steps back so that he can study Rhys in full, clicking his tongue in thought.

“So, kid, you want outta there?” The look on the CEO's face is surprisingly impassive, and he taps his foot almost impatiently, as if Rhys is only a nuisance now that he's had his fun.

Rhys nods emphatically. “Yes, sir!” he whines out, squirming at the idea of being freed. “I'll suck your dick, sir; I'll do whatever you want as long as you let me go.”

For a moment, Jack seems to consider this. “Anything,” he parrots back, and it's obvious it isn't a question. He shakes his head, dismissing the idea of doing anything else too extreme. A blowjob sounds fine, for now. Rhys gives good head, and there's always tomorrow to continue this little game.

Jack motions for Rhys to come closer, undoing his fly and pulling his cock out without even bothering to push his jeans down. He's already hard, and he wraps his hand around himself as he leers at Rhys. The younger man whimpers as he scoots forward on his knees, both from the pain radiating in his legs and from the disgusting sloshing of urine under him as he moves. He obeys Jack and positions himself so that he can open his mouth for his boss's cock, though he keeps his eyes closed in shame.

Jack takes Rhys's hair in one hand and guides his cock to his underling's lips with the other. The President stretches his jaw open and allows Jack to push inside slowly. He expects the older man to start thrusting in roughly, as he usually does, but instead he just pauses and waits.

“Well?” Jack almost sounds like he's holding back laughter. “You gonna suck my dick or do you just wanna sit there in your own piss all fuckin' night?” The President shakes his head as much as he can, starting to flick his tongue along the underside of his boss's leaking prick. He tries to ignore the cold feeling around his own cock, although it makes him shiver, attempting to focus as much as he can on pleasing Jack instead.

Rhys dares to open his eyes, hoping that Jack won't be staring at him when he does. When he looks up, though, that's exactly what he's met with; Jack's intense gaze is focused directly on him and they momentarily lock eyes. He lets out a muffled whine of surprise, instead shifting his focus so that he can look down at Jack's cock, his eyes crossing slightly. He starts to bob his head almost frantically, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks as hard as he can. He plays the tip of his tongue up and down Jack's frenulum, grateful as he hears his boss groan in pleasure.

It doesn't take long before Jack's hand starts to tighten into a fist, and he beings to buck his hips in rhythm with Rhys's movement. The younger man feels some measure of relief at that, starting to bob his head faster, taking Jack deeper as he opens his throat up for him. He nearly chokes as his boss pushes in all the way to the hilt, holding Rhys against him so that the President's nose is against Jack's lower stomach. Thick spurts of cum coat the back of Rhys's throat, which he obediently swallows with no hesitation.

Jack pulls out rather suddenly, leaving Rhys coughing. The older man leans against his desk for a moment, catching his breath, just staring at his employee.

“I need a shower,” he mutters rather nonchalantly, eyes still trained on Rhys. The younger man perks up a bit at that, looking up at the CEO with wide, hopeful eyes. He needs warm, clean water on him right now; he's shivering again from how cold he is in his wet slacks. Jack obviously knows this, evidenced by the condescending smile he gives the younger man as the tucks his cock back into his jeans. “You're gonna have to ask _real_ nice if you wanna join me, kitten.”

Rhys feels his face flush, and he's sure that the redness of it spreads across his neck and up to his ears. He knows exactly what Jack wants-- not the first time he's been asked to beg-- but part of him wants to just pull the handcuffs off and demand that he be allowed to clean himself up. The moment of feistiness passes quickly, though, as soon as he sees Jack quirk an eyebrow at him. He wants to please his master.

Out of shame, and as a sign of submission, Rhys bows his head. “Please, sir,” he whimpers out, “I want to clean myself up. I want to shower with you.” When Jack doesn't respond, he glances up, trying to look as pitiful as he feels. “I want you to clean me up, sir. I want to feel your hands on me.” Rhys shifts uncomfortably as he feels his cock start to stiffen. He shouldn't be getting turned on by this, he thinks, but he is anyway.

Jack crouches down after a long few moments of silence, eye-to-eye with his pet. “Tell me you want to be free, baby,” he purrs, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Rhys sighs. He figures he has no dignity left to lose after what he's done, and he finally breaks down into pathetic begging. “Please,” he whines pitifully, “I want you to free me, sir. Please, let me go!” He sniffles for added effect, forcing his lip to quiver. Under the facade, he can feel the sensation of his throat tightening with the threat that he'll cry again, though the way that Jack is smiling at him helps him fight it back. Maybe he _should_ cry, just to add to the effect, but he doesn't want to. It's somehow more fun for him to pretend, to play it up to impress the CEO.

A gentle hand comes to Rhys's cheek as Jack wipes away the drying tearstreaks, and it actually surprises him when his boss leans in to gently kiss his nose. He wastes little time unlatching the cuffs around Rhys's wrists, bringing the younger man's left arm up so he can inspect said wrist for any marks left by the metal. He stands as soon as he's satisfied that the cuff hasn't left any bruises, helping Rhys to his feet. He says nothing of the state of the younger man, though he does huff out a laugh under his breath, just wrapping an arm around Rhys's shoulders and leading him off to his private shower.

“This isn't the first time you've done something like this, is it?” Rhys asks rather boldly as he relishes warm water running over him. He's facing the wall, turned away from Jack, something that makes him feel much more comfortable with discussing what's just happened. He's surprised to hear the older man laugh, and he actually turns to look at him.

Jack's smile is wolfish and toothy. “Nope,” he answers simply, winking with his mutilated eye. He motions for Rhys to turn his gaze back toward the wall, which he does, and Jack presses himself closer. He nuzzles at Rhys's ear and moves his hands around to the younger man's chest, lathering soap over his skin with gentle circular motions. “I've tried a little bit of everything, darlin'”

Rhys can't help but let out a giddy little laugh. He's pleasantly surprised at the entire situation; how gentle Jack is being in helping him clean up, the feeling of Jack's breath on his ear. He's gone from domineering, snide and intimidating to... this. He's playful now, affectionate in his own strange way, and it's a welcome change of pace.

Most of all, though, Rhys is shocked that _the_ Handsome Jack has removed his mask. Jack hasn't said anything about it, acting as if nothing is different, so Rhys has followed suit. Internally, though, he feels like he might combust. He's thrilled and terrified and so _fucking horny._ The CEO looks sexy with that scar across his face, equally as handsome without the mask as he is with, and Rhys hasn't been able to stop himself from fantasizing. He was already half hard from Jack demeaning him and forcing him to beg, and he's only gotten progressively more aroused at the idea of what else Jack has planned for him. He _hopes_ that Jack has more planned for him, at least. The way he'd spoken earlier makes him suspect that he may be forced to walk back to his office with a stiffy.

Rhys's mind goes blank when he feels Jack's hand traveling down his stomach, his fist wrapping around the younger man's cock. “You think you deserve a little reward, kitten?” Jack teases his sharp canines over Rhys's neck, breathing heavily into his ear.

“I-I thought this was a punishment.” Rhys chokes out, subconsciously bucking into Jack's hand. “You said earlier that--” he cuts himself off with a gasp “--that I'm not supposed to like it.”

It only takes three long, tight strokes before Rhys splatters the wall in front of him with a few small ropes of cum. Jack purrs as the younger man quivers under him, pressing his nose almost lovingly against Rhys's wet hair. “I think you've been punished enough, don't you, baby?”

Although Rhys has every intention of heading back to his work as soon as the two of them get out of the shower, Jack has different plans. He pulls Rhys into a tight hug as they step out into the steamy bathroom and wraps them both in a towel, drying them off only enough so that he can pull Rhys down onto the bed in the spare room branching off of his office. He wraps them both up in the sheets, and although the fabric still clings to their damp skin, the two of them curl up together in contentment.

Jack spends several long moments petting Rhys's still-dripping hair, pulling him in close so that their bodies are pressed against one another. It doesn't take long before Rhys is drifting off into a midday nap, though he's woken up by a little huff from Jack, his breath on the younger man's neck stirring him slightly.

“Yknow,” the CEO murmurs thoughtfully, “I think I'm alright with you interrupting my work, honestly.” He chuckles low in his throat, and Rhys can't help but smile contentedly. “Just as long as you don't get in my way _too_ often.”

Rhys butts his head against Jack's chest and wraps his arms around the older man. “Nuh-uh. You're never getting rid of me now.”

Jack grumbles quietly, though he says nothing. Rhys rubs slow circles against the CEO's scarred shoulders, bidding him to relax, the movements of his hand becoming progressively weaker and slower as sleep overtakes him. In that moment, Jack doesn't give a shit about work. He watches in silence as Rhys dozes off, studying his kitten with a smile on his face that he just can't stop.

For the first time in a long time, Handsome Jack falls asleep with someone in his arms, content and relaxed as he lets himself doze off.

 


	3. Day 3: Sensory deprivation/ edgeplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, served up hot and ready for the halloween month sin bin ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
> 
> I don't know how to write any of the stuff I wrote here cuz I've never written it before now so!! it might be trash XD

Rhys has tried many new things since he's started sleeping with Jack. Just a few months back, he would have panicked at the idea of being tied down, would have fought tooth and nail against anyone who dared to hit him in a sexual situation. Jack, though, had eased him into it with surprising kindness and patience. It was an altogether unusual experience, seeing the man shift from his usual violent self to something much more subdued. The first few times, Rhys had been convinced he was just having a particularly vivid dream, though the reality of it couldn't be denied when he woke up feeling sore and worked over. Jack would always make him breakfast and rub aloe vera gel on the sensitive, raw areas of his body. Sometimes after they had both eaten, Jack would offer to let Rhys use his luxurious bathtub, drawing warm water for him and helping him wash his hair. They went through this soothing little routine after every session, the two of them enjoying each other's company and decompressing from the previous night's intensity. Rhys had never thought that he would have reason to use his desk in its standing mode, but after a few particularly passionate nights with his new boyfriend, he was legitimately grateful for it. No amount of aftercare could really stop the aching he was left with.

Usually, Jack was the one who initiated their little play sessions. An ECHO call usually came shortly after Rhys got off work for the day, the CEO putting on a husky, alluring voice and inviting his employee up to his penthouse. Rhys didn't mind, of course; he was used to Jack being in control, just in general, so him taking charge when it came to their sexual encounters just generally felt _right._

“Hey pumpkin.” Jack's voice coming through the ECHOcomm actually makes Rhys jump, drawing him out of his memories. Had he answered? He didn't even hear it ring. “Sorry, had to hack into this thing some time, right? It's urgent. Get your ass up to my penthouse.”

The click of the call disconnecting draws a sigh from the younger man. He knows that Jack isn't one to take no for an answer, but it doesn't _sound_ like anything legitimately urgent is going on. All the same, mindlessly writing up another report for his asshole boss doesn't seem quite as important as going to meet up with the CEO for some important one-on-one time.

It takes no time at all for Rhys to arrive at Jack's door. He's glad that he's been given a copy of the CEO's personal fast travel key; on the way out of his office and down the hall to the fast travel station, he starts to feel a giddy kind of excitement bubble up inside of him. He briefly wonders whether or not he should knock, but before he has the opportunity the door is flung open. Jack is grinning at him wildly, stepping back and holding the door for Rhys to enter. _He must have security cameras,_ Rhys thinks. _Either that or he's psychic._ That _would be scary._

“So, what's so urgent that I had to ditch work?” Rhys turns to Jack with a sly smile on his face, his tone almost mocking. “You know that Vasquez is gonna have my ass if he finds out I'm not being a good little worker bee.”

Jack lets the heavy door slam shut, strutting over to Rhys with his usual confident demeanor. “I'll vent that fucker into space if he says a goddamn word to you,” he chimes, bringing his hands up to stroke at Rhys's flushing cheeks. Rhys can only roll his eyes, gently laying his hands over the older man's wrists. They stand there for a long moment, just gazing into each other's eyes almost sensually, something that Jack knows his partner loves, though he pulls away all too soon. He takes off his heavy overcoat and hangs it on the coat wrack at the side of the door. “Down to business,” he says mater-of-factly, glancing at Rhys over his shoulder. “I'm not gonna pretend like this is work-related, cuz you're just too smart to fall for that, huh kitten?”

Rhys raises an eyebrow. “No shit.”

“I wanna try something,” the CEO continues, sauntering to the couch with his long stride and motioning for his partner to follow him. As soon as Rhys is settled, Jack leans in for a gentle kiss. “Something kind of... new.”

New? Rhys is nervous with 'new.' Every new thing Jack has shown him thus far has been enjoyable, but he still can't help but be worried.

“Why call me out of work for it?”

Jack just shrugs. “It'll probably take a while. Or, _preferable_ it'll take a while.” He rubs at his chin in thought. “Okay,” he says after a long moment, “no more beating around the bush. I want you to be in charge tonight.”

Rhys is shocked into silence for a long moment. _Him?_ Rhys had never been capable enough to be in charge of anything-- he had bought about eight different succulents and let them all die, which he felt was quite a reflection on his general incompetence. How could he be trusted to take charge in a situation like the ones Jack was interested in? To be responsible, even briefly, for another human being?

“What?”

Jack guffaws at Rhys's choked out response, snorting several times as he doubles over. “Oh man, I don't think I've ever seen you that speechless before!” He wipes at the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. After a moment, he clears his throat, calming down, although he can't stop himself from smirking. “I know you heard what I said, so I'll be a little more descriptive.

“I want you to tie me down the way I've been doing to you.” He's all business now, his smile gone. “I want you to feel what it's like to be in that position, to be the one in power. I wanna see if you like it, if it gives you a new perspective on what we're doin', all that shit. New experiences are important, right?” He reaches out to take Rhys's hands in his own, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss against the tip of his partner's nose.”We don't have to,” he adds.

There's another long moment of quiet, Rhys looking down and studying the meeting of their hands. He weaves his fingers through Jack's, stroking his left thumb over the older man's skin. “If you trust me to do that, then I'll try it,” he says at last, though his nerves are still thrumming.

Although Jack seems temporarily hesitant, he nods. “Okay,” he purrs after a moment. “Well, let's talk it through.” He leans back heavily into the plush leather, sprawling out and humming in thought. “What kind of thinks are you thinkin' of doing to me, pumpkin?”

“Uhh...” Rhys follows suit and relaxes against the couch as well. “I don't know. I don't want to hit you. Unless that's what you want me to do, I guess.”

“No,” Jack says, his tone a bit terse, sounding firm and serious. “This is for you. You're in charge. We're doing what _you_ want.” He seems to think for a moment. “I mean, yknow. Within reason.”

Rhys frowns, going deep into thought for a moment. “I don't want anything rough,” he muses. “I feel like I'd enjoy doing something... gentle. I don't know what exactly.”

The older man hums, shrugging. “We can just figure it out in the moment, if you want. Do what feels right, yknow?”

What feels right? Rhys isn't sure what would feel right, but if Jack trusts him then he supposes that he can trust himself to figure it out. It isn't like he's a virgin, by any mean, although not nearly as experienced as Jack; he has a general idea of what feels good, what doesn't, what he likes and doesn't like. He can't be entirely sure what his partner would prefer, but if the idea is for Rhys to explore this for his own pleasure...

“If I do anything you hate, please safeword,” he answers. “Other than that, I'm game.” He actually gives Jack a shy little smile.

Seeming satisfied, Jack stands from the couch and offers his hand. “Sure thing, pumpkin,” he says in response, pulling the younger man to his feet and starting to lead Rhys to the bedroom. “Just be sure to check in with me every once in a while,” he adds, pushing the door open and going to fall down on the bed.

Rhys kicks off his skagskin boots, starting to strip down a bit awkwardly. Jack has begun to do the same, unbuttoning his vest and shimmying out of his upper layers without even rising from the plush duvet. He kicks his slacks off, stretching out on the luxurious fabric as he waits for Rhys, clad only in his bright yellow boxers.

“You know where I keep my stuff,” Jack offers as soon as Rhys has finished undressing. He glances over to the closet in which he stores his various toys. “Just grab what you wanna use. Or, Hell, bring all of it over here if you can't choose.”

As he slides the closet door open, Rhys starts to shift from one foot to the other as he gets lost in thought. He's well aware of Jack eyeing him up, but his attention is much too focused on the box of toys on the closet floor to really care. It takes him a while to even crouch down to start sifting through its contents, running his organic hand over everything inquisitively. There's some bright yellow rope-- Hyperion yellow, one might even say-- which feels surprisingly soft under his touch. Jack tends to use padded cuffs during their sessions, and for some reason the rope seems thrilling to him, still somewhat foreign to him. He knows it will look beautiful against his partner's tanned skin, and he pulls it from the box to hold in his lap.

The next item that catches Rhys's eye is a dark, velvety blindfold. He himself has never been blindfolded, but Jack has mentioned it to him in passing once or twice, claiming that the temporary loss of sight can enhance someone's other senses. He sets that aside as well, still contemplating it.

As he returns to the bed, Rhys can't stop his hands from trembling. He's both anxious and excited at the same time, adrenaline pulsing through him. Jack looks over with feigned disinterest, his eyes instinctively coming to rest on the sparse collection of items Rhys has returned with.

“Mm, fun,” he purrs as Rhys sits down next to him. “You know how to the tie right kinda knots for this? I can show ya if you want.”

“I've watched you do it,” Rhys admits with a little smile. “I think that I've got it.”

Jack hums, turning over on his side and propping his head up on his hand as he watches Rhys demonstrate the technique that he's studied from his partner. As soon as the knot is tied, Jack rolls onto his back once more. “Okay, you're a fast learner I guess.” He stretches himself out spread eagle, waiting for Rhys to start ensnaring him with the silky rope, but Rhys just sits there for a long moment, unsure.

“You're sure that you want to do this?”

Jack snorts quietly. “If I didn't, then would I have offered?” He pushes himself up on his elbows, meeting Rhys's eyes and giving him a gentle smile. “If _you_ don't want to, you can just say so.”

Rhys can't help but grin back, reaching to run his metal fingers through his partner's hair. “I _do_ want to, honey. I'm just... nervous.” He motions for Jack to lay down, straddling him, gazing down at him with soft, loving eyes. The two sit there together for a long while, the brief moment of intimacy starting to ease the younger man's anxiety.

Although it still takes a moment, Rhys starts to loop the rope gently around Jack's wrists, fastening the other end of it to both of the top bedposts. Jack pulls at both of them, only hard enough to test them. The knots are just tight enough to hold him in place without cutting off his circulation. It's obvious that Rhys has been paying attention to their prior sessions.

“That okay?” the younger man asks as he scoots to the foot of the bed and standing. At Jack's confirmation that it is, Rhys reaches down to his partner's boxers, locking eyes with him and licking his lips playfully as he does so. He crawls up the bed as soon as he has thrown the bright yellow and white underwear to the side, leaning down to tease the tip of his tongue over Jack's half hard cock. The older man grunts in response, though he says nothing. He begins to pant as Rhys slowly licks a stripe up his partner's stomach and chest, following the thin strip of hair that leads up his body. Rhys presses several soft kisses against Jack's neck, leading up to his jawline and to his lips.

Jack is a bit surprised when Rhys slips the blindfold over his eyes, his vision suddenly going black. He squirms a little out of instinct, his breathing picking up. There's a long moment where Rhys just nuzzles Jack's neck, kissing and sucking tiny bruises into his sensitive skin and occasionally teasing his teeth over the area. Jack squirms a bit under his partner's touch, biting his lip subconsciously as he feels Rhys start to run rigid metal fingers over his chest and stomach. It tickles a little bit; not enough to cause him to laugh, but just enough to send a tingle down his spine, one which sparks a growing heat through his whole body.

“Does this feel good?” Rhys's voice is close to Jack's ear, his breath on the older man's neck. Jack nods wordlessly, huffing as he tries not to outwardly moan. Although the blindfold hasn't been on him for very long, he can already tell that it's having an effect on his sensitivity to touch; Rhys's feather light kisses across his shoulders and down his chest start to make him pant quietly in want.

As soon as Rhys wraps his left hand around his partner's stiff cock, Jack can't help but growl at the sensation. His hips buck ever so slightly into Rhys's touch as he swears under his breath, trying to will Rhys to start stroking him. For several long seconds, though, he just squeezes firmly at the base of Jack's leaking prick, watching as precum runs slowly down his length. He leans forward to lap at the trail left by it, purring happily at the way that Jack jerks his hips, licking his lips in satisfaction.

“Please,” Jack whines out, squirming under his partner's touch, trying to grind into Rhys's touch. “Please, Rhysie, I need you. _Please_.”

Rhys hums in thought, stroking his hand up and down the older man's shaft a few times, as agonizingly slowly as he can bring himself to. Although Jack is still making a valiant attempt not to lose his composure, he lets out an earnest moan as soon as he feels Rhys wrap his lips around his cock. He bucks his hips into the heat of his partner's mouth, and Rhys responds in turn by bobbing his head in time with it. He opens his throat, letting Jack's cock sink deep into him and starting to swallow around him as best as he can. He works his tongue up and down Jack's shaft at the same time, pulling back to lap along the prominent veins along the sides of his cock.

Jack starts to squirm, his hips thrusting against the sensation, and as his prick starts to twitch erratically, Rhys knows that he's already getting close. Although he doesn't want to torture his partner, he isn't even close to done with Jack yet. As soon as he can tell that the older man is just on the edge of his orgasm, Rhys pulls away completely. Jack starts to thrash and struggle to get any kind of sensation back, desperate to cum, but Rhys stays resolute and doesn't touch him anymore until Jack has started to calm down.

“I'm gonna fucking get you for this.” The threat comes through gritted teeth, and Jack raises his head as if he were glaring daggers at Rhys through the blindfold. “Soon as you let me outta this, I'm gonna fuck you stupid.”

Rhys can't help but snort out a laugh. He leans up to kiss Jack's cheek gently, petting his hair. “Do you need to stop?” he asks gently, nuzzling at the older man's neck.

Jack lets out a pained sigh, still wriggling against his bindings. “No, just...” He cuts himself off with a growl. “Just let me cum, Rhys.”

“I think you forgot the magic word,” the younger man chimes, his voice gently teasing as he trails his fingers over Jack's chest.

Jack whines out of instinct, unable to stop himself from bucking his hips at the feeling of Rhys's soft touch. “ _Please,_ ” he chokes out, his tone tense, his body aching with need. “ _Please,_ Rhys, I fucking _need_ you.”

Rhys seems satisfied at that, pressing another gentle kiss to Jack's cheek as he reaches down to start stroking the older man again. This time, he stays laying parallel to Jack, biting and sucking at his neck, his breath hot in Jack's ear. He can't help but chuckle as Jack starts to mewl and squirm, letting out uncharacteristically high pitched wails of pleasure. He can tell almost as soon as he starts stroking him again that Jack is already close, and as soon as he feels his partner's cock start to twitch and jerk in his hand again, he pulls away.

The shout that Jack lets out this time is loud enough to make Rhys flinch. The older man's back arches off of the bed, his head thrown back as he growls, letting out several angry-sounding swears as he bares his teeth. This time he doesn't bother to beg Rhys, and the younger man doesn't ask him to, the two just laying there with each other as Jack starts to come down.

The third time Rhys returns his hand to Jack's throbbing prick, the older man can't stop himself from cumming with a savage howl of pleasure. He fucks into Rhys's tight fist as his orgasm sweeps over him like a tidal wave, his body heating to a fever pitch. He can feel it as he cums all over himself, shot after shot of the thick, hot fluid covering his chest and stomach.

As soon as Jack has ridden out his orgasm, Rhys releases his tight grip on the older man's cock, collecting some of his partner's cum on his forefinger. He presses it to Jack's lips, and although the older man groans in displeasure, he reluctantly opens his mouth and sucks his own cum off of Rhys's finger. As soon as his hand is clean, he starts to undo the bonds around Jack's wrists, winding the rope up the same way he had found it and laying it on the bedside table. Jack rubs at his wrists, his hands shaking and weak as he pulls the blindfold from over his eyes and flinging it aside carelessly. He's panting and wheezing as he sinks into the the mattress, folding his arms over his forehead as he wills his heart rate to slow. He glances down as Rhys starts to wipe the cum off of his partner's stomach and chest with a wad of tissues.

“Was that good, sweetie?” He gently presses his lips against the older man's neck, slowly running his hands up and down Jack's flanks as he soothes his overwhelmed nerves.

Jack nods weakly, letting out a groan. “Yeah,” he breathes simply, his voice hoarse from his animalistic moaning. “I need to rest.”

Rhys can't help but chuckle. He reaches up to pet the older man's hair, kissing his cheek before pushing himself up from the bed and returning the toys to the closet. Jack looks beautiful like this, Rhys thinks as he turns back to come to sit beside him. His partner is still rubbing at his sore wrists, his eyes gently closed and his exhaustion evident on his face.

As he comes back to Jack's side, he pulls the duvet and sheets out from under him, tucking him in, gentle and loving. He slides into the silk sheets next to him, wrapping his arms around his partner and peppering kisses over his neck and shoulder. Although his own cock is leaking and throbbing in need, it's clear that Jack is absolutely exhausted and in no shape to return the favor at the moment.

Jack nuzzles into Rhys's hair as the younger man brings himself to climax, trying not to make a mess of himself in the process. He sprawls out half on top of Jack as soon as he's cleaned himself up, panting.

“I promise I'll repay you in the morning, 'kay cupcake?”

Somehow, Rhys thinks that Jack still won't have fully recovered by then, and he smirks as they both trade their 'goodnight's to each other. He'll get what he's owed, he knows, even if he has to tie Jack down and ride him to hold the older man to his word.

 


	4. Day 4: spanking/ mirror sex/ dacryphilia/ spitroasting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like if any chapter has a shitton of mistakes, it'd be this one. I think it's gonna be the longest one I write all fuckin month XD

Jack had long been plotting to introduce his body double to his new boyfriend. Usually, it was a little ritual of Jack's. He liked to let Timothy get to know his partners, just in case Jack was ever expected to do something romantic-- god forbid. Tim was good with those kinds of things, whereas the very idea of romance tended to make Jack want to gag. It was generally a good arrangement for both of them, Jack being able to dodge uncomfortable romantic crap while Tim got to go on fun little dates and blow Jack's money and, when the mood struck him, got to make love to some _very_ attractive people. Tim had never complained, at least, and occasionally gushed to Jack rather excitedly about how much fun he had had.

Although he had called Timothy for a friendly free dinner, saying he wanted to catch up with his old 'friend,' Tim of course knew better. Jack was never the kind of person who wanted to 'catch up' or spend quality time with other people; usually when he called someone to meet up with him it was for sex, or otherwise for something else that he wanted or needed. Even as annoying and sometimes uncomfortable as it could be, Tim was surprisingly content with it.

As soon as Tim had walked into the overly pricey restaurant and saw another person with Jack, he knew what his employer's intentions were. He couldn't help but eye up the lanky stranger, humming in thought as he came closer. He wasn't exactly what Tim would define as his 'type,' but he had to admit that Jack had taste. As soon as the stranger turned and saw Tim, his face lit up and he elbowed his boyfriend in the side, motioning for him to turn around.

Jack holds his arms out to Tim welcomingly as soon as he's alerted to his presence, pulling him into a hug which the body double begrudgingly returns. Jack puts a hand on the younger man's back and leads him over to Rhys, introducing the two with a magnanimous gesture, as if he's doing both of them a favor. Of course, the giddy smile on Rhys's face as he shakes Timothy's hand gives away that he may in fact consider this a favor to him. Maybe, Tim considers, this _wasn't_ Jack's idea after all.

“Come on, kiddos,” Jack purrs, “let's take a seat, shall we?” He takes both of them by the shoulders, Tim on one side and Rhys on the other, pulling them along before waiting for an answer. Rhys sits down as they reach the table Jack has reserved for them, with Tim sliding into the booth opposite. Although both of them seem to expect Jack to sit next to his boyfriend, he instead flops down next to his body double, shooting Timothy a sly smile before turning to look at Rhys. “You like how it feels to have two handsome-ass men starin' ya down, pumpkin?” He steeples his fingers and presses them to his smirking lips, raising one eyebrow in a beautifully wicked way.

“I think I'd prefer to see the two of you sticking your cocks in me at the same time,” Rhys says with an easy smile, “but just looking at you two is a pretty close second.” Him saying something so forward earns him a guffaw of laughter from Jack, while Tim just squawks in surprise.

“We're in public!” the double chokes out. Rhys just shrugs.

Jack huffs, patting Tim's shoulder reassuringly before rudely calling over one of the waiters. He gets a dirty look from both of his companions at his obvious disrespect, and he starts placing orders for all three of them without even asking what they'd like.

Rhys huffs as the waiter walks off, rolling his eyes at Jack's smug, self-satisfied expression. “Very presumptuous of you, honey.”

“I know you both well enough to know what you like,” he counters back, crossing his arms. “You think I don't pay attention, but I do. I'm a nice person. Right?”

Neither Rhys nor Tim answer.

It doesn't take long before Jack stops pouting, the question forgotten, and starts to talk at the two of them to fill the silence. Rhys doesn't mind, of course. He loves to listen to Jack talk, no matter what the topic is. The sound of Jack's voice is somehow so familiar and soothing, the occasional laughs punctuating his rant bringing a subconscious smile to Rhys's face. Timothy, on the other hand, sits there gritting his teeth to try to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

As soon as their food arrives, Jack immediately shuts his mouth. He licks his lips as he eyes up his steak, not bothering to wait for Tim and Rhys before he grabs fork and knife and starts to cut a huge chunk out of it and shove it in his mouth like the glutton he is.

Tim can't help but smile as a surprisingly grandiose-looking salad is sat in front of him. It earns a little huff of distaste from Jack, one which silently judges him. Rhys has, as always, ordered his favorite-- chicken and dumplings. Jack had always found it a boring dish, especially since Rhys's order was always the same thing unless Jack pressured him to try something new. Then again, everyone at the table is a bit predictable in their food preferences, so it isn't like he could really judge.

It takes so little time for Jack to wolf down his steak that Rhys and Tim have still hardly touched their food. Rhys can't help but give him a distasteful glare as his boyfriend reaches for the dessert menu and begins to flip through it, swearing he can see his pupils dilate as he studies all of the options of sweets. “If you eat yourself sick again I'm gonna spank you until you learn your lesson.” Tim lets out a little snort of a laugh, covering his mouth almost demurely, looking sideways at Jack as the older man lowers the menu enough to glare at Rhys over the top of it.

“Some day you'll finally understand that I don't learn from my mistakes, honey.” He ignores the eye roll from his boyfriend, opting to once again obnoxiously wave down the waiter and place an order for an entire Neapolitan cake. Tim and Rhys both look at him in bewilderment as the waiter heads off to the kitchen.

“I didn't agree to helping you eat a whole cake, Jack,” Tim says with a weary look in his eyes. “I'm trying to watch my figure.”

Jack turns his head toward his body double slowly, almost disbelieving, while Rhys starts to snicker around a mouthful of dumpling. “God, you've been on this whole 'dieting' thing for years now. I admire your dedication, kid, but how are you _alive_ eating salads and skipping dessert?” He actually rubs at his temples as he stares down at the table. “I would lose my damn mind.”

Rhys clears his throat, a sure sign that he's about to say something snarky. Jack notices immediately, turning to look at his boyfriend expectantly, waiting. “This is why you're getting chubby,” he says plainly, scooping another dumpling into his mouth and chewing while he keeps his eyes locked with Jack's. The CEO just looks at him with a frown of his face, watching as Rhys loses his composure and starts to snort out a laugh. Tim just shakes his head with a little smile on his face, going back to picking at his salad.

By the time the cake arrives, Rhys has finished his food, though Tim is still quietly munching on lettuce. The cake is quite a bit smaller than Jack was hoping for, much to his annoyance, but he moves three thick slices of it onto the empty plate provided for him by the waiter, slicing the tips of all three pieces with the side of his fork and shoving it all into his mouth with a surprisingly sexual moan of pleasure.

Rhys reaches over with his own fork, spearing himself a bite of cake right off of Jack's plate, a pleased, playful little grin on his face when his boyfriend huffs in annoyance. “I'm not gonna let you cum tonight if you keep that shit up,” he states mater-of-factly, earning him a little choke from Tim. Rhys knows that he's joking, of course; Jack is a people- pleaser when it comes to sex and he would never let his partners go unsatisfied.

“So is this gonna be a threesome or...?” The timid question catches both other men off guard, but Timothy just takes another bite of salad and impassively studies the other two. Jack breaks out into a laughing fit, the other patrons of the restaurant glancing around at him in silent bewilderment, and Rhys can't help but join him.

While Jack is still losing his mind in hysterics, Rhys actually answers, fighting back chuckles as he speaks. “If you want.” He snorts as Jack quite suddenly settles down enough to take a huge bite of cake. “If it's okay with you, of course.” He looks back and forth between the two.

Timothy just gives a shrug. “I'd be okay with it,” he responds with surprising confidence. He seems to have done a 180 from earlier, and Rhys has to wonder if it has something to do with Jack's presence. Not that he would complain about that, of course. Seeing him go from shy to unabashedly sexual is for some reason a bit thrilling. Maybe he's just realized that 'sexual' is the tone for the night and has begun to act accordingly. Who knows?

Jack mumbles something incoherent around a huge mouthful of cake, having moved onto a fourth slice. “Mkay,” he finally manages to get out, shoving even more of the dessert into his mouth as soon as he's said it.

It takes quite a while, but once Tim has finally finished his salad he does grab one single slice of the cake, picking at it just as slowly as he had the salad. Between Rhys and Jack, most of it's already gone, and Jack quickly finishes it off as soon as the other two have given up.

“Please tell me you aren't too full to have sex,” Rhys deadpans at his boyfriend, one eyebrow quirked at him. “If you aren't gonna deliver on this threesome thing then I just want you to know that I'm gonna let your body double dick me down so hard that my ass will never recover from it.”

A little hum escapes Tim. “That sounds good, but I think I might prefer _you_ dicking _me_ down,” he comments absently, rubbing his chin in thought. “Either way, that sounds fine by me.”

“I hate both of you,” Jack says with a huff, throwing a thick stack of several hundred dollar bills onto the table. From the amount of them, it seems that he's tipped sixty percent or upwards. _Of course_.

Both of the younger men are quickly whisked off to Jack's penthouse, a place that Tim had never been in. He was frankly shocked by the sheer size of it when he first walked in, though he quickly remembers that his boss has several turbomansions planet-side and realizes that this is probably a fraction of a fraction of the size of those. Rhys seems strangely comfortable in the huge space, and it occurs to Tim that maybe he's been _living_ here, _with_ Jack. It's uncharacteristic of the aloof CEO at best, and a sign that he's going insane at worst.

Jack spins a full 360 with his arms out, motioning all around him. “Welcome,” he offers to the body double, “to my humble abode.”

“Nothing about you is humble,” Rhys calls, still standing at the doorway as he kick off his shoes, and Jack huffs, pulling off one of his own sneakers and tossing it gently at the younger man. Rhys effortlessly sidesteps, shooting Jack a nasty look.

“If you keep that up, _you_ aren't allowed to cum tonight,” he says with a sly smile, Jack frowning at having Rhys parrot his own words back at him.

Jack comes to grab Rhys by the collar of his shirt, kissing him hard before yanking him by the tie towards the bedroom. He kicks his other shoe off along the way, taking Tim by his arm and leading both of them while he starts to chuckle maniacally.

As Timothy is pushed through the doorway he starts to pull his boots off, but Jack stops him. “Uh-uh, baby, you're keepin' those sexy things on,” he purrs, Rhys flopping down on the bed at the same time and starting to unceremoniously pull off his pants. Jack seems exasperated by this, but he doesn't stop him. Instead, he busies himself with stripping the layers off of his body double, planting several kisses against Tim's neck.

It isn't the first time something like this has happened by any means-- Jack was much too turned on by the idea of fucking some version of himself _not_ to have made a move on Tim-- but the double always felt embarrassed and out of place with someone as confident and sexually dominant as Jack. Tim _liked_ being dominated, sure, but it just seemed to come so naturally for Jack that it was almost unnerving.

Arms wrapping around Tim's waist from behind nearly makes him flinch, pulling him out of his overthinking. He's surprised that Rhys starts to nuzzle at his neck, trailing soft kisses up to his ear. Jack just huffs, forcing Tim's Hyperion t-shirt off of him. “Timmy, kiddo, I've got one hell of a treat for you.” He leans around his double to grab Rhys by his tie, pulling it to lead him to lay down on the bed. The sudden change of mood leaves Tim a little nervous again, but the way that Jack leers at him actually puts him somewhat at ease.

Jack wastes no time pulling Rhys's briefs off of him, giving his bare ass a smack and watching as it reddens. He waggles his eyebrows at Tim. “You get to have a turn with my favorite toy, baby.” He licks his lips as he watches Tim blush. “Just be careful not to damage him. Want you to know that you'll never get to plow that tight little ass again if you don't please him.”

“Hey,” Rhys suddenly pipes up, looking over his shoulder from where he's laying on his stomach on the bed. “I did say I wanted to _see_ you both fucking me, didn't I?” The memory of it hits Jack and he snaps his fingers, gleefully sauntering around to the other side of the bed and pressing a small button on the wall Rhys is facing. Panels in it flip around, revealing three large full-length mirrors placed side by side, creating a full reflective wall.

Tim blanches a bit. “You weren't joking?”

“Of course not.” Jack sounds legitimately confused at the question, crossing his arms as he looks at his double. He seems unable to concentrate, looking Timothy up and down and humming in thought. He looks down to Rhys then back up at Tim, licking his lips with a wicked look in his eyes. “Well, boys? What're you waiting for?”

Tim's face flushes. “Should I, uh... get him ready?” He starts to wring his hands, waiting for Jack's permission before he dares to lay his hands on his boss's precious boyfriend.

“I already did, earlier.” Rhys has turned around to look at the anxious body double, a giddy smile on his face. “I'm ready for you, don't worry.” Jack, in the meantime, grabs a bottle of lube from the nightstand closest to him, tossing it at Tim. The younger man fumbles to catch it, Jack snorting in laughter and Rhys giving him a gentle, understanding smile.

Timothy pops his fly, anxiously pulling his cock out, which is still only half hard. He gives himself a few strokes before he pours some lube into his palm, acutely aware of Jack's eyes on him. He risks a glance up, his face flushing with heat as he sees himself reflected in the mirror just behind Jack. The CEO has his hands on his hips as he watches. He gives a little hand motion for his double to continue, just crossing his arms over his chest and waiting rather impatiently, frowning as Tim just continues to focus on his own reflection. Without thinking, he starts to play with the head of his dick, watching the movements of his thumb over his slit.

Jack huffs, sitting down next to Rhys's right shoulder, crossing his legs and getting comfortable. He makes sure to sit far enough to the side so that both other men can clearly see their reflections. “Oh, Timmy,” Jack chimes, catching his doppelgangers eye in the mirror. “Go ahead. You get the first turn with him. Get on with it, pumpkin. Don't wanna keep our little pet waiting now, do we?”

For a moment, Tim is frozen and speechless, looking down at Rhys and taking a deep breath. The younger man turns to look back at the body double, reaching behind him to spread himself open. At the sight of that, Timothy finally snaps out of his shock. He climbs onto the bed so that on his knees are between Rhys's legs, his already leaking cock several inches from Rhys's entrance. He brings his hands up to gently massage at the younger man's surprisingly plump ass, in wonder for a moment. He'd never really noticed before, with Rhys's rather unflattering slacks, and he's suddenly very jealous of his boss.

Tim becomes wary as the toes of his boots brush against the duvet, but Jack either doesn't notice or doesn't care. His jeans pull a bit uncomfortably in this position, but he shifts forward to put his hands at either side of Rhys's head. He tests the position for a moment and finds it more comfortable. Jack clears his throat as soon as Tim has gotten himself into place, and the double whines in surprise as he feels his boss's hand meet at the base of his cock. Jack has reclined a bit from his position so that he can see Tim's leaking prick, and he lines the younger man up with Rhys's dripping hole. Tim obediently thrusts forward, not even having to be told, and he slides in easily. Jack lets out a satisfied purr.

As soon as the head of his cock has slipped past the tight ring of muscle around Rhys's entrance, Tim can't help but let out a shaky moan. Rhys gasps in pleasure, and it draws Jack's attention away from the view of Tim sliding himself in to the hilt. He sits back up, glancing in the mirror with a soft, satisfied laugh, then turning back to looking down at his boyfriend. He sits studying Rhys for a few seconds before starting to rub small, gentle circles over his upper back. “What a good boy you are,” he whispers encouragingly, and Rhys responds with a lusty moan.

Jack quickly snaps his attention back to his double. Tim is thrusting into his partner much faster and rougher than Jack had expected, seeing a spark of something almost animalistic from the usually timid man. He watches as Timothy's arms start to shake a bit as he picks up his pace, his hips starting to buck erratically and his breathing picks up, curses and moans tumbling from his lips with growing fervor.

“Timmy, if you cum before he does then I'll spank the shit outta ya,” Jack snaps, scowling at the younger man. He reaches out when the other man doesn't respond, slapping him across the face enough for it to sting and ache, grabbing Tim's chin and jerking his head to the side.

Immediately, Timothy is met with the view of the reflection in the mirror; the first thing he notices is the look on Rhys's face, his eyes rolled back and mouth lolled open in silent pleasure. The younger man is lapping lazily at Jack's now exposed erection. His eyes quickly flick upwards, and his breath catches in his throat. His own face is flushed dark red, his body trembling, the neediness and lust in his eyes surprises even him. For just a few short seconds he studies the way his cock slams into Rhys's ass, glad for the-- albeit limited-- view. Then suddenly, he's cumming.

It shocks Timothy as much as it shocks Rhys and Jack. He nearly collapses on top of Rhys, leaning forward and slamming into him as hard and deep as he can. A loud moan of pleasure tears from his throat, one he can't even try to hold back, and his cock twitches hard. Rhys gasps and squirms a little as he feels spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum fill him up, so much that it surprises him. He shifts backwards against the older man's cock as Tim rides out his orgasm with progressively slower, shallower thrusts, and finally Rhys feels him pull out.

Before either of the other men have a chance to respond, Jack tuts in mock disappointment. “Oh Timmy, baby,” he purrs out, reaching out to bring a hand to his double's shoulder, “you do know I'm a man of my word, right? You've known me long enough to know that, don't you?” He relishes in watching Tim slow his breathing, coming down from the intense pleasure, sitting back on his thighs. He just nods his head tentatively, biting his lip and dropping his gaze. He flushes even deeper as he sees his heavy load dripping slowly down Rhys's balls, and he whimpers.

“Tim, get outta my way,” Jack snaps out, and he skitters off the bed as fast as he can. Jack comes around to the other side of the bed, pushing Tim to force him to sit down at one side and snatching the lube up from the nightstand. He locks eyes intensely with his employee while he starts to slick himself up. “I'm gonna show you how you _really_ please a man. Watch and learn, kitten.”

With no hesitation, he slams into his boyfriend. Rhys cries out, his voice breaking with the sound and his fists knotting in the duvet. Jack thrusts in several times, finding Rhys's prostate quickly before pulling out and standing back up from the bed. He grabs his partner's hips and pulls him to the side of the mattress, Rhys wailing quietly at the sudden movement. Jack presses the head of his cock back into the younger man and leans forward to sink all the way in. As soon a he does, he sets a brutal rhythm that makes the bed shake. The wet, sloppy sounds, flesh colliding against flesh, the way that Rhys cries out over and over as Jack hammers into him-- just that alone could get Tim hard again, but as he turns to look behind him in the mirror he feels even more heat pool in his stomach. Jack is scowling, almost as if he's annoyed, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he holds Rhys down with a hand between his shoulders. Meanwhile, the younger man looks absolutely wrecked. Jack's other hand is in his hair, pressing his face down into the covers, starting to muffle his needy cries.

Tim turns back to watch the way that Jack's cock slides in and out of his boyfriend, more and more cum streaking his shaft with each time he pulls out, a pool of it starting to form under the two of them. Although he feels a rush of shame go through him, the sight of it makes Tim's cock twitch in want. He still doesn't feel completely satisfied, cumming so soon, and he hopes that Jack will take mercy on him and let him have another turn once he recovers.

Rhys full on screams when he cums, and it snaps Tim out of his daze. He watches the younger man's face in the mirror, shocked when Rhys starts to slam his fist against the mattress, tears starting to run down his cheeks. Tim watches in the reflection as the CEO pulls out fully, stroking himself frantically until he cums with a loud, low groan. The thick ropes of his cum shoot surprisingly far, up to Rhys's neck and in a wet trail across his dress shirt. Jack fucks into his hand, his fist tight, milking himself until Rhys is covered in nearly as much cum as is now pooled around his knees, soaking into the duvet.

Jack turns to Timothy with a wolfish grin after a moment, flicking his tongue over his lips at the needy look that's already returned to his double's eyes. He chuckles darkly, leaning in to press an almost loving kiss to the younger man's lips before pulling away. “So, think you've learned somethin', pumpkin?” Tim just nods dumbly.

Almost immediately after the response, Jack excitedly rises from the bed and saunters over to the walk-in closet where he stores his wide array of toys. Tim has very briefly explored his boss's collection in the past, but most of his experience with Jack's toys has been much more up close and personal.

As soon as the CEO turns around with a thick leather paddle in his hand, Timothy can feel the blood drain from his face. Rhys sits up, shaking and tired, though there's a wicked gleam in his eyes as he glances over at the body double. He shifts so that his legs are stretched towards the pillows, leaning back a bit and resting on his hands as he watches Jack return, only after he's stripped out of his ruined shirt.

“Bend over Rhys's thighs, kitten.”

Tim glances between the two other men, subconsciously biting his lip in nervousness. He kicks off his boots and jeans, though he pauses as he stares at the paddle in his boss's hand. He only hesitates for a moment, though the slap of leather against his superior's palm encourages him to hurry. As soon as he's in place with his stomach on Rhys's lap, he feels the younger man start to rub slow circles across his back and shoulders, fingers playing with his hair as Jack kneels on the bed behind his double.

“Do you want me to warn you before I hit you or not?”

The question catches Tim a bit off guard, and for a moment he isn't completely sure. He studies the scene in the mirror as he thinks, watching as Jack studies the paddle in his hands, Rhys with his eyes focused on the gentle massage he's giving. Tim takes a deep breath in and out. “No,” he answers finally, though he knows it will be more shocking than the alternative.

He watches as Jack raises the paddle above his head for a split second, his brain not processing it fully before he feels the rush of pain from his backside. The stinging feeling is for some reason strangely arousing, and the double can feel his prick start to leak again.

“Wish I had a little handheld mirror,” Jack muses, studying the marks left by the paddle. “You'll have to see how the prints look once we're done. Frickin' gorgeous.” He brings the heavy instrument down once more before Tim can answer, drawing a whine of pain from him as his soft skin starts to redden further. Rhys, meanwhile, gently shushes him, cooing encouraging words to him as he pets Tim's mussed up hair.

Three more swats from the paddle come in quick succession after a long pause for Rhys to comfort Tim as he shakes and squirms. He's started to sob weakly, his whole body shuddering in response to the electric rush of arousal running up and down his spine, and Jack allows him another small break. “How many you think he deserves, Rhysie?” He looks up to his boyfriend, his smile dark. “After all, you're the one he screwed over.” He snorts out a laugh, palming at Tim's ass as gently as he can in the meantime. “Pun fully intended.”

Rhys hums in thought for a while, though he doesn't pause as he rubs gentle circles into the older man's scalp with his short nails. “He's been good other than that, Jack,” he murmurs, his lips quirking up at the corners. “Besides, the poor thing's already crying.” He pouts a little at the body double, stroking the soft flyaway hairs around his hairline and slicking them back a bit so that they aren't tickling at his forehead. With his thumb, he starts to wipe at the corners of Tim's eyes, his tears streaking across Rhys's skin.

“He's a wimp,” Jack jokes dismissively, groping Tim's tender ass and getting a pathetic whine out of him. “Give me a number Rhysie. Wanna have an idea of just how many you think he can take.”

There's long moment as Rhys thinks, and it's obvious that he's stalling to give the double a break. “Five more,” he answers, looking back up to his boyfriend, “but if I tell you to stop before that then you stop or else _you're_ gonna be on the other side of that paddle.”

Jack huffs. “Fine, fine,” he answers, and before Tim can register it, Jack has already struck him again. He cries out wildly, flinching away, but Rhys steadies him in place with one gentle hand on his back. “Tim, I want you to count.”

Timothy sniffles, burying his face into the duvet. “One!” His voice is high and shaky, but he seems almost enthusiastic about the idea of it.

Rhys can't help but smile. He gently grabs at the hair at the back of Tim's head, giving a very soft tug to signal for him to look back up. Tim looks absolutely pathetic as he locks eyes with himself in the reflection of the mirror. There are tears and snot running down his face, and he feels absolutely disgusted with himself, though something about it makes his cock twitch and stiffen.

“Four more, darlin'” That's as close to a warning as Tim gets, a resounding slap seemingly echoing through the room. Jack growls and teases the raised design of the paddle over Tim's stinging skin to prompt him until he mutters out a pathetic cry of 'two.'

Rhys hums softly, still petting at Tim's hair as he leans to look at the bright red marks forming on his ass. “Oh, that's cute,” he purrs, fighting off the urge to run his fingers over the design. He leans back over to check in with Tim, watching the older man's face in the mirror. “How are you doing? How bad's the pain?”

Tim sniffles, another quiet sob wracking him before he can manage to answer. “I'm fine,” he whimpers breathlessly. Despite his surprisingly low pain tolerance, Tim knows that he can take more; he's been spanked before to the point of drawing blood, has been caned across his ass and back so severely that he was in constantly pain for the next several weeks. He wiggles his ass, trying to be enticing. He _wants_ more.

Another heavy blow comes down on Tim's skin, burning as it makes contact with the same place, and he knows that the marks left from it are going to be dark red. He wails out when he counts this time, his voice breaking, and his throat is so dry and painful that he knows that he likely won't be able to speak tomorrow.

“Well, maybe you do know how to be a good boy after all, huh kitten?” Jack teases the tip of his fingers up and down Tim's lower spine as slowly and gently as he's able despite the lust building back in him. He looks up at Rhys after a moment with a smirk. “You think he deserves a reward once we're done?”

Rhys thinks on it for a few seconds, joining Jack in slowly massaging the older man's back once more. “Maybe,” he says with a hum. “I think I'd like to go another round, if the two of you are up for it.” Jack growls deep in his throat, clearly excited by the prospect of it, and almost immediately he hits Tim even harder.

“Four!” The next scream from Tim is so hoarse that it's almost inaudible, and Rhys turns to his boyfriend.

“Okay, enough,” he says, holding a hand up to still Jack as he winds up for another swing. He lowers his arm, nodding to Rhys and placing the paddle on the bed. “I think that before we reward him, though, he should see what cute little imprint you've left on him.” Suddenly, Rhys pushes Tim off of him and motions to him to follow towards the mirror. He smirks at the sight of his own erection reflected in the glass, his cock twitching in response.

Timothy rises to his feet stiffly, limping slightly as he follows Rhys. He's made to turn around and look over his shoulder, immediately flushing as he sees the marks Jack's paddle has left.

Emblazoned on his tanned skin is “NAUGHTY,” bright red and stinging. He can't help but gasp, gently trailing a finger over the letters. He winces, and he can feel welts already forming.

“Pretty, isn't it?”

Tim turns back to look at Jack at that snide comment, his eyes widening. In truth, he has to agree that it is. He's only seen his ass spanked raw once before, also Jack's doing of course, and seeing a _word_ imprinted on his skin this time is somehow much hotter and strangely more satisfying. He smiles weakly at his boss, Rhys leading him back over to the bed with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Jack gives a signal for Tim to lay down, his ass to the mirror now as he's bent over the side of the bed. Rhys gently caresses the older man's ass, making Tim hiss and writhe. He looks up at Jack with an obviously suggestive smile, starting to pet the double's hair once more.

“You didn't happen to clean yourself out before you came, did ya, Tim?”

The question brings a wave of embarrassment, and he looks up at Jack with a pathetic little 'yes.' The CEO guffaws, crouching down so that he can be on eye level with Timothy without the younger man having to crane his neck for it. “God, you are such a little slut, aren't ya?” He reaches out to wipe at his body double's cheek to dry his tears, a devilish grin crossing his features as Timothy looks away in shame. “What a good boy. You got yourself ready just for me, didn't ya, kitten?” Tim doesn't have to answer for Jack to know that he's right; ever since the first time they had hooked up, Tim had taken to the habit of preparing himself any time his boss called him in.

Rhys catches the bottle of lube as Jack throws it, the sound of the bottle top clicking open pulling Tim out of his thoughts. It's almost immediately after the soft sound that he feels Rhys's first two fingers press against his entrance. He groans at the feeling of firm metal starting to stretch his clenched muscles; despite how tense he is from his shame and nervousness, he relaxes quickly against the pressure of Rhys's fingers.

“Do you feel ready or should I keep going?” Rhys has taken to gently massaging at Timothy's prostate after he's stretched him a bit, the older man mewling into the duet at the feeling as he does so. He barely manages to get out the words 'I'm ready' before he grits his teeth in pleasure again.

After a moment more of teasing, Rhys withdraws his fingers. He pours lube into his hand, lining himself up, his arousal burning too hotly within him now for him to wait much longer. He's never had the experience of having his boyfriend under him like this, and the sight of a man so much like Jack waiting, open, loose and wanting for him... it stirs something deep inside of him that he hadn't been fully aware that he had wanted. He makes a mental note that he'll have to bring it up to Jack some time.

“Open your mouth, sweet pea,” Jack coos, holding his cock in one hand and pressing the head through his body double's lips. He bucks in at the same time as Rhys does, Tim choking out a soft wail of surprise. He's given only seconds to adjust to the sudden intrusion at each end before the two men pinning him to the bed start to set up a rushed, frantic pace. Rhys is already digging his nails into the double's hips within only a few strokes of his cock against Timothy's inner walls.

Jack has one hand in Timothy's hair, holding his head up so that the younger man can open his throat and take him whole. Tim's eyes cross as he struggles to cope with the sensations shooting through him, the pleasure shocking up and down his spine, the heat of his orgasm already building in his stomach. He starts to shake, his thighs trembling as he struggles to hold himself up.

Rhys, unsurprisingly, cums first, almost embarrassingly fast. He slams into Tim, their hips meeting with a resounding slap that makes the body double's ass spark with pain again. Rhys shudders, leaning forward to sink his teeth harshly into Tim's shoulder. The older man lets out a whine of pain around the cock pistoning in and out of his mouth, attempting to push himself back against the softening cock in his ass. Timothy is desperate, whining out pathetic little sounds that aren't quite words, hoping that one of the other men will hear his begging for what it is even with it muffled around Jack's leaking prick.

Almost as soon as Rhys has pulled out, Jack reaches his climax as well. He presses himself against Tim, sinking his cock as deep into his double's throat as possible, and the moan that he lets out is dirty and lustful. The CEO keeps his eyes trained on the mirror, watching himself cum down Tim's throat, ignoring the way the younger man chokes and gags.

Soon as Jack pulls out, Tim coughs pathetically, a small trickle of cum running from his mouth. He lets himself relax into the duvet finally, panting and gasping for breath, and although he does feel somewhat more satisfied, he's still aching with need.

“Okay, okay,” Jack says, his tone close to one of annoyance, “I think it's time that we let him cum. You wanna do the honors, Rhysie?”

Rhys can't stop his face from lighting up, and he nods enthusiastically. He takes the bottle of lube up from where he had laid it on the side table, uncapping it and pouring a liberal amount onto his no longer slick metal fingers, the lube already on them having dried. As he presses them back at Tim's entrance, he hears the older man sigh in relief. Timothy presses back against him, though Rhys uses his organic hand to still him. “Just relax,” he coos, and Tim does as he's told, just laying comfortably on the bed as Rhys seeks out his prostate.

Timothy is an absolute _wreck_ once Rhys starts to well and truly fingerfuck him. Although Tim had initially expected it to be uncomfortable, the feeling of the firm metal against his prostate makes him squirm and wail in pleasure. Jack hums in satisfaction as he watches his double lose himself in pleasure, his hand coming to Tim's hair as he starts to run his fingers gently over his scalp. For some reason, the feeling of Jack's surprisingly soft touches shoots pleasure straight to Tim's cock. Rhys only needs to hammer his fingers against the older man's prostate one more time before Tim absolutely falls apart.

The duvet is soaked with tears as Tim cums, his body shaking and weak, his voice too shot to even moan. All the body double can manage is to sob, his body wracked with pleasure and pain, his nerves searing and overwhelmed. Rhys pulls his fingers out once Tim's spent cock starts to soften, looking wildly satisfied with himself.

“Wow, kiddo, you okay?” Jack seems genuinely concerned as Tim just lays here on the bed shivering and crying. He asks that Rhys go to find aloe vera gel or lotion, anything to help soothe Tim's ass, Jack petting the double's hair meanwhile. It takes a moment before Tim nods, letting out another tiny sob as he reaches out weakly to try to wrap his arms around Jack. “Shh, shh, just lay down and rest for a second, Timmy. You think you can move so you can get more comfortable, or do you just wanna stay how you are?”

With great difficulty, Tim pushes himself up with shaking arms. Jack holds the duvet up for him so that he can slip in between the silk sheets, laying on his side so as not to aggravate his raw skin. He's thankful when Rhys comes back to sit at the side of the bed, gently rubbing the soothing chamomile lotion into the bright red welts on the body double's ass while Jack himself strips the ruined duvet from the bed. He throws it into the automated laundering system he'd had installed for just such occasions, once again wildly grateful for it. As soon as he's grabbed another duvet from his closet and stripped himself of his jeans, he comes back over to the bed and spreads it over the sheets. He reaches over to pull the sheets and bedspread up over Timothy's shoulders, sitting down crosslegged on the bed in front of him.

Jack hands his body double a few tissues, helping him clean the tears off of his face while Tim blows his nose, and although he does look pathetic Jack still feels a strange amount of affection for the younger man. He leans in to kiss Timothy's hair, rubbing his shoulder gently as he lays down under the covers with him. “You need anything, kiddo? Water, maybe?” Tim nods weakly, and Rhys immediately goes to fetch him some. He comes back with one of the ludicrously expensive bottles of water that Jack keeps in his mini fridge, handing it to the body double.

Tim looks at the ridiculously posh bottle that he's handed, his eyes widening, and Jack just laughs. “Drink up, kitten,” Jack tells him. “That one bottle is worth more than your entire salary has ever netted you, so enjoy it.” Rhys just rolls his eyes and pets Timothy's hair as he uncaps the bottle and takes a long drink.

Rhys wraps his arms around Tim from behind, laying at an angle so that he isn't touching the other man's aching backside. Jack actually goes to grab a silky, luxuriously and ludicrously soft robe for his body double, shooing Rhys off of the bed so that the two can help him into it. As soon as he lays back down, Rhys presses a little closer to the body double and starting to kiss and suck at the crook of his neck. Jack lays down at the other side, seeming satisfied, just watching until Tim finishes his water before snuggling up to the younger man. He delicately places the slender glass bottle on the nightstand behind him before turning to pet Tim's hair and kiss at his nose, cheeks and eyelids.

“I hope that you've had a good time tonight, kitten,” Jack purrs, and Rhys quietly echos his sentiment. The CEO presses his nose against Tim's, Rhys resting his head against the double's neck at the same time, the three of them curling up together. Jack pulls away despite not wanting to break the physical contact, turning to switch off the light at the side of the bed.

As his boss lays back down, Timothy curls into him, relishing in the feeling of being embraced from both sides. “Goodnight,” he whispers, and he's answered by both men.

“Don't worry, Tim,” Rhys says quietly, “we'll have more fun in the morning.”

 


	5. Day 5: Foot Fetish/ Feeding Kink/ Sadism and Masochism/ Shotgunning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I THINK I hit all the main things for this one in the tags. There's only really some light/implied masochism but that isn't a big theme. I did technically include that prompt tho O: HEY can ya tell idk how to write this stuff P: that's why this one is so short. That and also the hell we refer to as time XD

Rhys had always known that his boyfriend used drugs. _Everyone_ who knew Handsome Jack knew he used drugs. Granted, although Jack had talked about it before, he never actually used in front of Rhys. Out of some kind of principal, maybe. He knew Rhys wasn't exactly into that kind of thing, so maybe he felt as if he had to hide it. He _didn't_ have to, of course, but Rhys did appreciate the consideration. He could hardly ever tell when Jack was high even after spending several months with him, what with how mercurial and capricious the man could be. The two generally didn't talk about it, as it never really interfered in their relationship, so really there was nothing to discuss. Rhys knew it was happening, Jack knew that Rhys knew, so there was no conversation to be had. The only time it had been brought up was when Rhys had started to get overwhelmed by the smell of smoke and brought Ozium, fabric refresher and several air fresheners home to try to cover it up. Jack just thought it was hilarious, but let Rhys do what he wanted.

As Rhys finally gets home from work after a long day, he walks in to something he's never seen before. Jack is sitting on the plush leather couch, reclined as he stares at the television, a joint in his hand. He turns as he hears the door open, shocked, smoke slowly spilling from his mouth as his jaw hangs open. He looks back and forth between Rhys and the blunt between his fingers, reaching to the ashtray on the table to quickly snub it out.

“Shit, sorry.” Jack's tone is mostly impassive, though he does seem a bit anxious. “I know you don't like me smoking in the house.”

Rhys kicks off his boots beside the door, casually grabbing one of the several bottles of air freshener and spritzing it into the air. He comes over and flops down on the couch next to his boyfriend, leaning on him heavily. “Whatcha been doin' today?”

Jack looks down at Rhys, blinking in confusion for a moment. “Well, you already know half the story.” He lets out a little laugh, motioning toward the ashtray. “I took the day off, just been chillin' out, lots of naps, lots of TV. The usual.” He clears his throat, wrapping his arm around Rhys's shoulders and absentmindedly running a finger up and down the cold metal of his arm. “I'm sorry, I know you hate me smoking in the house.”

His organic hand comes to rest on Jack's left, pulling it from his boyfriend's lap to his own, lacing their fingers together. “Cigarettes bother me way more than pot,” he relays with a shrug. He still hates the smell, but he really can't complain; the top-of-the-line air freshener does help cover it, though he can still smell smoke under the sweet spiced apple scent in the air. “Besides, whatever you're smoking tonight isn't nearly as gross as whatever the hell that _awful_ stuff was before.” He gently jabs Jack in the side with one of his metallic fingers. “Just stop smoking stuff that downright _stinks_ and it isn't really a problem.”

“Huh. Should I switch my brand of cigarettes, then?” Jack gives the younger man a lazy smile, and Rhys only responds by sticking his tongue out.

The television droning in the background starts to get annoying after a while. Jack clearly isn't watching it anymore now that Rhys is here, instead focusing on nuzzling into his boyfriend's hair and slowly rocking the two of them side to side as he hums something. He couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but there's something endearing about it, the giddy smile on his lips and the obvious happiness in his voice as the two of them sway. It isn't exactly what Rhys would call _romantic_ , but it's nice nonetheless.

“You know you can finish smoking that if you want,” the younger man finally says, only speaking up once Jack has finished with his little song.

It seems to take Jack a second to process this. “You hate that shit, though,” he answers firmly, pulling back a bit so that he can study Rhys. “I don't wanna smoke it around you, okay?”

Rhys huffs. “Look, I haven't tried getting high since I was in college. I kinda wanna try it again. Maybe I'll have fun this time, smoking with you.” He looks up at Jack almost shyly, but his boyfriend is frowning down at him.

“No.” He says it with a stern note to his voice, though he reaches for the blunt and his lighter anyway, puffing at the thing to get it lit. “I'm not letting you inhale this shit directly, okay? I don't want you... _freaking out_ on me.”

“Oh come on, it wasn't _that_ bad.”

The look that Jack shoots towards Rhys is one of exasperation. “Look, I get that one bad trip doesn't mean you're _always_ gonna have a bad trip, but I don't want to risk it.” He takes a long draw and puffs out a lungfull of smoke, blowing it in Rhys's face and making the younger man cough. “If you want this fuckin' smoke in your lungs, you'll be breathing it in from me. I'll buffer it for you or whatever. It's what a good boyfriend would do.”

Before waiting for a response, Jack grabs Rhys by the chin and tilts his head up. He hits the blunt again and presses Rhys's mouth open with his thumb on the other man's lower lip, leaning in for a deep, rough kiss as he exhales.

Rhys's eyes go wide, beginning to tear up as he fights back the overwhelming urge to cough or gag. The smoke sure doesn't _taste_ any better than he had remembered from when he had tried it before, but it somehow seems more bearable with Jack's lips on his and his tongue in Rhys's mouth. Finally, Jack pulls away and flashes Rhys a toothy grin, and at once Rhys loses his composure. He turns his head away and starts to hack and splutter as his lungs try to force the smoke out, and he can feel his face flush with embarrassment. Jack just gently rubs between his shoulders until the younger man catches his breath, putting the blunt out again in the meantime.

“You alright, kitten?”

Rhys leans back against his boyfriend, his lungs still burning. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.” He takes a few deep breaths and turns to nuzzle into the older man's neck. “That sucked a little.”

Jack hums deep in his throat, reaching for the remote and flipping the television off. He fluffs Rhys's hair as he stands from the couch rather suddenly, heading off to the kitchen. Rhys lays back with his head propped up on the armrest, closing his eyes and relaxing into the supple leather.

The sound of Jack's muffled footsteps makes Rhys open his eyes. A water bottle is offered over to him, which he takes gratefully. He sits up, feeling a bit sluggish, uncapping the bottle and taking a few sips. Jack flops down onto the couch next to him, and Rhys is surprised to see that his boyfriend has a plate in his hand.

“If you're about to eat an entire cake again—”

“I'm not,” Jack whines, shoving a huge bite into his mouth. “You're gonna help me.”

Rhys frowns slightly, humming as he leans in to study the cake up close. It looks rich and decadent, frosted with beautiful swirls and flowers, a white base with varying shades of pinks and reds making up each petal of the roses. He has to assume that Jack got it from the bakery just a floor down from the penthouse they share, one that's so expensive Rhys almost can't imagine buying anything from the place. It looks like it's mainly chocolate on the inside, bisected by a thick white stripe of cream which makes Rhys's mouth water slightly.

“Well, if you really want me to...”

“There's a shitton of it in the kitchen,” Jack mumbles around his mouthful. “I'll get you some if you want.” Rhys declines, going to grab himself a serving. He isn't exactly sure that he's _high_ , seeing as he doesn't feel much different besides his aching lungs, but he does feel strangely hungry. Of course, the cake looks absolutely delicious, so he blames it on that as he takes four entire slices onto his plate.

As soon as Rhys sits back down, Jack's eyes go wide. “ _Whoa_ , kid. There's no fuckin' way that you got high enough from that to be hungry enough to eat that much. I doubt that you got high from that at _all_.”

The younger man doesn't actually respond, too busy stuffing his face. Jack can't help but let out one hell of a laugh, elbowing his boyfriend gently. “Seriously, you're gonna friggin' die if you eat that much. At least let me help you, huh?”

Rhys's face lights up in a smile at that, one which confuses the older man. Rhys pull his legs up onto the couch so that he has them crossed under him, turning to look at Jack. He's already finished the couple of slices he had gotten earlier, and Rhys smiles up at him as he spears a huge chunk of cake on his fork off of his own plate. He holds it up to Jack almost mockingly, though his boyfriend only grins before he leans in to take the fork into his mouth.

“You think that we can finish this entire cake tonight?” Rhys asks, and he smirks as he watches Jack nod emphatically. He holds another bite up to his boyfriend with an almost wicked smile on his face. He hardly gives Jack a chance to chew and swallow the cake in his mouth before he's offering him another bite, and then another, and another after that.

It isn't long before Jack holds up a hand to stop his boyfriend from shoving more food into his mouth. “Hold up,” he mumbles, still chewing. He's grateful that Rhys pauses to let him swallow, though almost immediately there's another forkful in front of his face. “Seriously, give me a second to drink some water, okay? I'm struggling, Rhys.” He reaches out to the bottle still sitting on the coffee table.

With a little chuckle, Rhys hands it to him. Jack takes a long drink, grateful for it based on the way that he relaxes. As soon as he lowers the bottle from his lips, he pants quietly, obviously satisfied. Rhys spears more cake on the end of the fork, though Jack looks at it in disdain and presses a hand against his stomach.

“Kid, I dunno how much more I can take.” He sighs and leans heavily against the back of the couch, taking a deep breath. “I mean Jesus, that cake is amazing but there's only so much I can eat.” He's already had damn near six slices, excluding the few small bites Rhys has stolen for himself, and there are only two pieces left now, still situated on their overly fancy platter in the kitchen.

Rhys smiles wide, pushing the tongs of the fork up to his boyfriend's lips. “Come on, honey,” he purrs, “just finish this little bit for me? I'll eat the rest of the cake. I've given _you_ most of what _I_ was planning on eating, after all.”

Jack reluctantly wraps his lips around the fork, groaning as he starts to chew the huge bite Rhys has offered him. Although the overwhelming sweetness of the rich chocolate cake had been absolutely delicious earlier, the taste of it now makes Jack want to gag. He turns his head away as Rhys holds the fork up to him again, stubbornly refusing to eat it. He's still chewing the last bite, hardly able to force his jaw to work, his stomach protesting against the idea of ingesting anything else.

Suddenly, Rhys has his feet in Jack's lap. It catches the older man off guard as he feels his boyfriend's toes gently pressing against his clothed prick, Rhys's socks adding an extra layer of fabric between them that marginally changes the sensation. “Come on, big boy,” Rhys teases,”just one more for me?” He slowly rolls the arch of his foot over Jack's cock, gently grinding his heel against the head. Jack hisses, and when Rhys leans over to offer the fork to him once more, the older man acquiesces.

Once Jack has finally swallowed, he brings one hand to rest over Rhys's feet. Despite the aching in his stomach, having the younger man slowly rolling the balls of his feet over his cock does feel greatly satisfying. Trailing his fingers over Rhys's silky socks, he looks down at the design. They're ones that he's never seen before, stripes of white, pink and red. How fitting, Jack thinks.

“Jack, honey, there's _one_ more bite and then you're done.”

The older man shakes his head, rubbing at his aching, bloated stomach. Rhys sits the plate down on the table and scoots up next to Jack. He reaches to his boyfriend's belt and unlatches it, undoing his button and lowering his zipper. Jack sighs; it actually does feel much better to have his jeans loosened, though he wouldn't admit it. Rhys chuckles, pressing his hand to the older man's swollen belly, nuzzling Jack's neck and pressing several kisses along his jawline.

Jack groans as Rhys moves away to grab the plate again, and as he does the older man pulls his cock out through the fly of his boxers. Rhys raises an eyebrow at his boyfriend once he sees that Jack is slowly stroking himself, shaking his head as he forks the last huge bite of cake. “You like how this feels, huh?” Jack looks over at him with a sly smile which is an answer in and of itself. Rhys holds up the one last bite to him, and Jack takes it without complaint. He chews and swallows as fast as his body allows him, and although it only adds to the aching in his stomach he feels strangely satisfied.

Rhys carelessly sits the plate back onto the table so that he can lean back in towards Jack. He scoots in so that he can wrap the arches of his feet around his boyfriend's cock. He's still close enough so that he can pet Jack's hair, and as he starts to roll his boyfriend's prick between his feet, he also runs his fingers gently over the older man's scalp. “You did so good, sweetheart,” he purrs, playing at the head of Jack's cock, which has now started to leak. “I'm so proud of you, Jack. You always do so good when I ask something of you.” Jack purrs in pleasure at Rhys's sweet words, rolling his hips upward into the soft fabric around his throbbing erection.

Although he wouldn't want to admit it, Jack _did_ like how this felt. His stomach aching and churning, the way he feels so bloated, it somehow adds an extra spark of arousal to the feeling of Rhys's feet on his cock. He can't explain it even to himself why he would enjoy the discomfort of it. Maybe something born out of his latent masochism. Either way, when Rhys gently presses against Jack's stomach, the older man moans and bucks up into the tight embrace of Rhys's heels.

“You wanna cum all over my socks, Jack?” Rhys's voice is gently teasing, and he squeezes his heels together and grinds them as hard as he can against his boyfriend's thick cock. He can feel each heavy drip of precum soak into the thin, velvety fabric of his socks, and slowly he starts to draw his pants legs up to show off the fact that they reach all the way up to his knees.

At that sight, Jack seems to lose his composure. He wraps his hands around both of Rhys's feet, thrusting up into them, albeit lazily due to how damn full he is. His perception is hazy and time feels slow, and somehow that on top of the feeling of his overstuffed stomach and the silkiness against his cock bring him to climax much faster than he had expected it to.

Jack's body stiffens, and he starts to shake a bit as his orgasm overtakes him. A low, weak groan of pleasure escapes the older man, and he shoots several thick spurts of cum against the fabric of his boyfriend's socks. As soon as he's finished, he looks down to study the large wet patches darkening the beautiful socks. Rhys pulls his feet away from his partner's spent cock, rubbing them together to soak the cum into the fabric as much as possible.

“You love how this looks, don't you, honey?” Rhys raises his feet so that Jack can clearly see the cum all over his feet, smirking at the older man as he sees Jack's face light up with a heavy blush. He brings his hands up to grab at Rhys's feet, raising them so that he can kiss gently at Rhys's soles and arches. The younger man has to bite his lip against the feeling of Jack trailing his lips over the bottom of both his feet, the sensation of it tickling and sending sparks through his nerves. He squirms a little, snorting and trying to pull away, but as Jack realizes that his boyfriend is ticklish he just lays it on even more.

It doesn't take long before Jack is tickling at Rhys's flanks, the younger man falling back onto the couch in a fit of laughter, begging Jack to stop as tears start to form at the corners of his eyes. Once Jack feels like Rhys has had enough, he leans forward to wrap his arms around his partner and starts to kiss at his neck over and over. The two of them end up laying side by side crowded up against each other on the couch, Jack's arms wrapped tight around his partner as he shoves his nose into Rhys's hair.

Jack trails his fingers gingerly over Rhys's tie, teasing at the button of the younger man's slacks before starting to palm at his boyfriend's half mast erection. Rhys wiggles his hips a little, pressing his back firmly to Jack's chest as he thrusts his hips forward into his lover's touch, a little sigh of pleasure escaping him.

As soon as Jack pulls Rhys's cock out through his fly it starts to stiffen under his hand. Rhys slowly and lazily rolls his hips forward as his boyfriend starts to stroke up and down his length with his rough, calloused hand. Jack's grip tightens as he plays at the head of his partner's cock, slicking his hand with precum and lubing up Rhys's shaft.

Rhys groans in pleasure, reaching around himself as much as possible and grabbing at Jack's shirtsleeve, turning his head to press his nose into Jack's adam's apple. He takes in a deep breath, drinking in the smell of his cologne. Jack, of course, wears something high-end and expensive, something with hints of cherry and wood backed up by the smoky smell of gunpowder and musk and bourbon. Somehow the scent of it travels straight to Rhys's aching cock, a rush of heat pulsing through him. Although the very thought of doing it still embarrassed him, sometimes he would huff Jack's clothes and pillow, occasionally even spraying his boyfriend's cologne all over himself before he jerked himself off.

Jack's hand tightens against the head of Rhys's cock, sending small shocks of pain through him. The pain isn't too much that it outweighs the pleasure, the feeling of it spurring him on instead of dampening his arousal. Rhys's hips jerk harder, his hand tightening in the fabric of Jack's shirt, a loud, needy moan escaping him. “I'm gonna cum,” he whines out, squirming as he feels the pleasure in him building like a tidal wave.

As soon as he feels Rhys's cock start to twitch, Jack loosens his grip just before Rhys is about to finish, making sure not to grip him hard enough to ruin his orgasm. He teases the tip of his forefinger over Rhys's frenulum and it pushes him over the edge immediately.

“Fuck! Jack!” Rhys' voice cracks as the first few ropes of cum shoot from his raging erection, painting the side of the coffee table. Each spurt gets gradually weaker, eventually reduced to one last heavy trickle which paints a white puddle on the black leather of the couch. He's left shivering and panting, so weak that his hand on Jack's arm loosens its grip.

Jack immediately starts to nuzzle Rhys's hair and kiss a line up his neck. “I love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs against the younger man's skin, pulling him in closer into a hard hug. “I think I might just fall asleep here.” His voice is heavy and tired, and he's obviously already close to dozing off. Rhys has no problem with it, as his body already feels heavy and relaxed in his post-orgasmic haze. Jack's back will hurt in the morning, and Rhys is more than happy to give him a massage. He knows that it'll turn into much more than just a massage, of course. It always does with Jack. He would also probably need a belly rub, and Rhys can't help but let a giddy little smile creep across his lips. He falls asleep there in Jack's arms, the grin only fading once he succumbs to deep sleep.

 


	6. Day 6: Biting/ Corsets/ Daddy Kink/ Cock Worship

Jack was absolutely fuming on his way home from work. He had had to vent two subordinates into space for attempting to assassinate him— one with poison and the other by slitting his throat in the middle of the damn hallway. He had fought off the dipshit with the knife with no problem, but the poison had already started to take it's toll, albeit minorly, before he finally realized what was going on. He should have known better than to trust strangers bearing gifts, but when said gift was a box of designer chocolates from Hera he found it a hell of a lot harder to say no. With prompt medical treatment, he was mostly back to normal, although he still felt drained and malaised. All he wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep for a full twenty-four hours. All in all, it wasn't a good day.

As soon as Jack walks through the front door to his luxurious penthouse, he knows that something is off. Rhys is always home before Jack, _always_ , and most days the CEO walks in to find his loyal President sprawled out on the couch watching some horrible travel channel show. He for some reason liked to sit around and imagine all the places Jack could whisk him off to for a little vacation. Jack doesn't understand why; Rhys could always just ask to go if he really wants to. Maybe he was planning a honeymoon. Jack wrinkles his nose at the idea. He _really_ didn't want to get married again.

“Rhys!” Jack's voice echos in the huge living room, and he gets no answer for his effort. He grumbles in annoyance, kicking off his shoes and hanging his heavy overcoat on the coat rack as he decides to search the rest of the house for his boyfriend.

It's only once he gets near the kitchen that he notices it. Rhys must be _baking_ something. The smell of it is so damn obvious that Jack is surprised he hadn't realized as soon as he had walked in, but the air smells heavily of fresh baked cookies.

As he rounds the corner into the kitchen, Jack is surprised to see Rhys almost completely stripped down. He wears only an apron, tall thigh high sheer black stockings, and... a corset. The corset catches Jack wildly off guard. He's never seen Rhys wear one, didn't even know he had one, but mostly Jack himself hadn't realized he wanted to see Rhys in one. He can feel his face flush in response to the sight.

“Rhysie, pumpkin?”

The younger man jumps a bit. Having had his back to the doorway, he hadn't seen Jack enter, and without his shoes on Jack's footsteps were nearly silent so he hadn't _heard_ him either. Rhys seems almost embarrassed, turning to fully face his boyfriend, trying to hide the corset visible under his apron. The apron is a light pink and white affair, ruffles and lace trimming at the edges and a huge bow over his chest.

“Oh hey, Jack!” Rhys's voice is high and a little anxious, his face brightening in a flush. “I thought I'd have this all done before you got home. Did you take off early?” He turns to look back at the top of the oven where a sheet of chocolate chip cookies are still cooling, and glances back back over to Jack.

The older man can't help but huff out a laugh, coming over to his boyfriend and wrapping his arms around him, planting a gentle kiss against the sensitive skin between Rhys's neck and shoulder, trailing his lips slowly up to the younger man's jawline. “Today's been a bad day,” the CEO mutters. “Looks like you've got some plans to make it better, though, huh?” He butts his head against the side of Rhys's and starts to gently nip at the shell of his ear.

Rhys lets out a little choke of shock at the gentle bite. “Hold on, honey.” He gently presses against Jack's chest and turns back towards the oven. Jack, of course, just stands there giving Rhys a licentious grin. Rhys frowns at him, shooing Jack so that he'll back up, which he does reluctantly. As the younger man bends down, opening the oven to check the cookies, Jack's eyes widen. Rhys starts to slowly sway his hips from side to side as he leans down to stick a toothpick through one of the cookies, letting out a little purr of satisfaction when he realizes that they're fine to be pulled out.

Jack reaches to hand Rhys a pair of oven mitts, the younger man chiming out a little 'thanks.' He lifts the tray out from the oven rack and sits it next to the other to cool. Once he's closed the oven, he grabs one of the cooler ones from the other tray and shoves it in his mouth. He grabs one and hands it to Jack with a wide grin on his face, and the older man takes it graciously. The pastry is still warm in his hand, and as he rips it in half he watches as the melty chocolate creates a long string that stretches between the two sides. He feels his mouth start to water, and despite the subconscious spike of anxiety he gets at being offered food again after the day's earlier events, he happily shoves one whole half into his mouth at once. He can't help but groan in pleasure at the taste, a sound which makes Rhys smile despite himself.

“Does that mean they're good?” Rhys teases, finishing his cookie and coming over to gently press his lips against Jack's own. The older man hums in confirmation, nodding, and gently butts his forehead against Rhys's. “So, handsome, you wanna tell me about your day?”

The question catches Jack off guard a bit, and as soon as he's stuffed the rest of the pastry into his mouth and grabbed several more cookies from the cooler sheet, he motions for Rhys to follow him. The younger man obeys, trailing behind his boyfriend as soon as he's taken one more cookie for himself. Jack flops down on the couch and sprawls out so that Rhys has almost no room left. The younger man sits a bit stiffly, forced into perfect posture by the corset squeezing around his waist.

“It's really not that important,” Jack huffs out as he starts to work on another cookie. “Few people tried to kill me-'

“What!?” Rhys starts, his entire body flinching in shock. “Who!?”

Jack huffs, waving off the question as if it's not significant enough to even answer. “Just some idiots who think that they can outsmart or outgun me.” He pauses as he shoves another cookie into his mouth. “Well, not outgun,” he mumbles out. “Out-knife, I guess.”

Rhys looks absolutely distraught, taking a little bite out of his cookie. “Someone stabbed you?”

The older man huffs quietly. “No, no,” he answers, swallowing. “If you think someone can kill me with one stab then clearly you've never seen me in a fight.”

“I haven't,” Rhys cuts in.

Jack shrugs. “The other douchebag tried to poison me.”

Rhys nearly chokes on the rest of his cookie. “Shit, really?” He frowns. “How?”

The older man flushes slightly, embarrassed. “So, you remember that one time when I told you I would suck anyone's dick if they gave me free food?” Rhys frowns. “I didn't suck his dick,” Jack immediately puts in, “but I wasn't really _joking_.”

“You accepted food from a stranger.”

Jack looks down in shame. “...Yes.”

The younger man huffs in exasperation at his boyfriend. “Honey, you know better than that.”

“Uh, no, obviously I _don't_.”

Rhys heaves a sigh, pulling his legs under him on the couch rather stiffly and turning towards Jack. He gets onto his hands and knees, and his boyfriend blinks in shock as the younger man starts to slowly and sensually crawl up the couch towards him. Rhys presses his lips against Jack's, snickering in delight at the way his lover's mouth now tastes like chocolate, and he pins Jack under him so that the CEO is on his back with the President looming over him.

“So, Daddy, have I improved your awful day any?” Rhys's voice is soft and sweet, though still dripping with some kind of implicit sexuality. Jack squirms a little, nodding, and reaches up to untie the silky bow behind Rhys's neck, causing the apron to slide down off of his chest. The older man happily drinks in the sight of Rhys's pale shoulders, the light blue tattoos just visible over the top of his corset. He brings his hands to the bow at the small of Rhys's back and undoes that as well, pulling the apron from between them and tossing it haphazardly onto the floor.

Now that he can fully see it, Jack appreciates the corset much more than he already did. It's black at the sides with a bright stripe of red running down the center, the slick material of it reflecting the surrounding light in harsh off-white spots. The CEO can feel a shiver run through him, and he brings his hands up to gently run his fingers over the black latex-like material covering his lover's flanks.

Jack clears his throat, realizing that he's been silently letting his jaw hang open, Rhys smirking at him in self satisfaction. “You dressed up just for me, didn't ya, kitten?” He can hardly choke the words out; he's never seen Rhys wear anything more risque than the occasional pair of lacy panties, and although he appreciated that, he hadn't exactly expected his boyfriend to do something like this for him. “Where the hell did you get this thing from?”

A bright flush spreads over Rhys's face and he looks away shyly. “You know that little boutique I told you about? The place where I bought all my socks and stockings and garters?” He smiles wide as he locks eyes with Jack, though he still seems bashful. “I found a few really pretty corsets there and thought you might like them.”

“ _Them_?” Jack's eyes widen a bit. “You got more than one?”

With a demure little chuckle, Rhys nods. “Sure did.” He nuzzles at his boyfriend's jawline. “I'm sure you'd like to see _everything_ I bought today, wouldn't you, Daddy? I got more than just a few corsets, of course. You'll see it all eventually, I'm sure.” He pulls back and gives the older man a playful wink before hauling himself off of the couch and tugging at Jack's shirtsleeve to prompt him to follow.

Jack scrambles after his boyfriend, his body thrumming with excitement. He watches as Rhys purposefully sways his hips as he struts toward the bedroom, only barely restraining himself from shoving his lover against a wall and taking him right there. The corset isn't overly tight, but it squeezes at Rhys's waist enough to give him a gentle hourglass shape, the lower hem of it accentuating the younger man's surprisingly round, perky ass.

As soon as Rhys is close enough to the bed, Jack pushes him down and climbs on top of him, his eyes wide and pupils dilated as he studies his boyfriend. Rhys gasps as the older man pins his hands above his head, Jack holding both of Rhys's wrists under one strong hand.

“Wait, Daddy,” Rhys whines. “I wanted to show you another pretty thing that I bought!” He wiggles a little, a wide smile on his face. “ _Please_ , Daddy? I think you'll like it!”

Jack seems to think on it for a long few moments before he sighs and lets Rhys up. He sits down at the foot of the bed, starting to work his jeans down his thighs as he waits for his boyfriend. Rhys saunters over to the closet, dipping inside for a moment before stepping out adorned in an extra article of clothing.

Once Jack's vision is drawn back to his boyfriend, his breath catches in his throat. Rhys has slipped on a fluffy red and black tutu which barely even covers his ass, the tulle fabric formed into spikes at the edges. The younger man slowly walks back to the bed, his hips swaying and his eyes hooded with barely contained lust. “Isn't it pretty, daddy?” As he walks up to stand in front of Jack he shakes his hips from side to side, making the sheer fabric ruffle up and lift just enough with each movement for the older man to see Rhys's hardening cock.

“You look so precious, baby boy,” Jack coos, his voice soft but teasing, and he runs his open palms up and down Rhys's thighs. “Did you buy this just for your Daddy?”

Rhys nods, grabbing at the front of the tutu and lifting it almost shyly, giggling playfully as his cock sticks out from under the fabric. Jack can see precum already beading at the head of his partner's twitching erection, and as he brings one hand up to tease at the head, he's met with an even heavier trickle of the clear lubricant.

Jack is somewhat surprised when his boyfriend drops to his knees, looking up with wide, innocent eyes. The younger man starts to trail tickling fingers up Jack's calves and thighs, coming to the outline of his erection straining against his boxers. Rhys seems pleased as he he starts to caress his partner's leaking prick, leaning in to nuzzle and kiss at where he can feel the head through the fabric. Jack groans at the feeling, reaching to grab Rhys's hair.

“Come on, kitten,” the CEO sighs out, “you wanna suck Daddy's dick, don't you?” He works his cock out of the fly of his boxers, pressing it against Rhys's cheek. “Come on, baby, go ahead. Get me nice and slicked up so I can fuck that tight little ass.”

A gentle little laugh escapes Rhys, and he replaces Jack's hand with his own, giving his thick cock a squeeze. “Just relax, Daddy,” he purrs. “Let your baby boy take care of you.” He flicks the tip of his tongue over Jack's slit, and his partner leans back to brace his hands on the bed. Rhys strokes at the older man's shaft slowly, almost agonizingly so, nuzzling against the leaking prick in his hands.

Jack bucks his hips, a bit annoyed at how long Rhys is taking, but as soon as he looks down he can't help but admit to himself that it's enjoyable to have Rhys teasing at him like this. The younger man looks overwhelmed by lust, trailing open mouthed kisses up and down his boyfriend's shaft, swirling his tongue around the head every time he reaches the top of the cycle.

“You have such a pretty cock, Daddy,” the younger man purrs out, giving Jack's shaft a few gentle strokes and pressing another kiss at the head of his prick. “You want to cum all over me, Daddy? I bet I'd look pretty with your cum all over me.” He wiggles his ass, scooting closer so that he can press the flat of his tongue against the underside of Jack's cock. Through the fabric of the older man's boxers, Rhys starts to gently squeeze Jack's balls, rolling his thumb over one before switching to favor the other, all the while lapping the precum from his boyfriend's cock.

It doesn't take long before Jack is groaning and writhing in pleasure. “Get the hell on with it, Rhys,” he huffs out, and he grabs the younger man's hair and pulls his head back. “If you don't get the fuck up here and ride my cock I'll spank your ass so hard you won't be able to sit for the next week.”

Although Rhys knows that Jack will definitely keep his word, he has the immediate instinct to disobey. “But Daddy,” he whines, “I just love your cock so much.” He squeezes at the base of Jack's length, stroking with the other hand as he laps up and down the other man's slit. “Just look at how thick it is. I love how it stretches me, but it's just so beautiful that I don't want to stop looking at it.” He whines as Jack pulls harder at his hair, growling, but Rhys just tries to lean in again to wrap his lips around the head of the older man's prick.

Finally, as Jack's eyes darken with anger, Rhys acquiesces and gets to his feet. Jack smirks, scooting up on the bed so that he's leaning against the plush pillows, settling back into them while Rhys crawls up to kiss Jack's forehead gently. The younger man has prepared himself earlier, of course, not wanting to have to waste time in the moment to do so. He reaches for the lube regardless, needing to make sure that Jack's cock is slicked up enough to slide into him without much effort.

As Rhys lowers himself down onto his boyfriend's twitching dick, he can't hold back a moan. He's eagerly awaited the feeling of Jack's thick cock pressing into him all day, and finally being able to experience the sensation he's been craving puts all of those fantasies to shame. He slides slowly down until he's sitting in Jack's lap with the older man buried in him up to the hilt. He starts to rock back and forth in time with Jack thrusting into him, angling himself so that the blunt head presses against his prostate with each time Jack bucks his hips.

Jack smiles wide, his hands coming to Rhys's hips and starting to rub his thumbs in slow circles across the coarse material of the ruffled tutu. He gently pulls Rhys upwards to encourage the younger man to start a slow rhythm bouncing up and down on top of him. He sighs in pleasure, tilting his head back as he starts to thrust in time with Rhys, following the younger man's lead and letting his boyfriend do most of the work. “God, baby, you feel so good,” Jack breathes, and he brings one hand up to press against Rhys's cheek. “You look so pretty, baby boy. You always know just how to please me.” He cuts himself off with a groan and a gasp as Rhys tightens his muscles around the older man's prick. “My day is so much better now, sweetpea. You've made me so happy, Rhys.”

Rhys can't help but whine happily at the way Jack's praise sends jolts of pleasure through him, the small sparks of pain from letting himself tighten up adding to the sensation making his cock start to drip in need. The precum starts to wet his tutu, dripping down onto Jack's yellow sweater.

“Jack,” Rhys mewls, squirming atop the older man, “you feel so good. I love your cock, Daddy.” He throws his head back as Jack buck in and hits his prostate hard enough to force another small rivulet of clear natural lube from the head of his prick. Jack licks his lips, growling low in his throat, and collects Rhys's pre onto his thumb. He presses it against Rhys's lips, the younger man opening up for his boyfriend to press it against against his velvety tongue.

A sigh escapes him once again, and Jack rolls his hips forward to press in as deep as he can. “You're such a good little boy, baby,” he breathes, panting as his back starts to arch off of the bed. He's already closer than he usually would be— he's always had trouble lasting as long after a particularly stressful day, and Rhys's sultry outfit and dirty words aren't really helping him hold out.

“Daddy, do you wanna cum inside me?” Rhys places his hand over Jack's, the one still caressing his face, lacing his fingers with his boyfriend's. “I want you to fill me up, Sir.”

At that, Jack knows he won't be able to keep himself from it. As soon as Rhys speaks, Jack's hips thrust forward desperately a few more times before he tugs Rhys down to fully sit on him, and he begins to shudder and whine. He wraps his arms around Rhys, pulling his boyfriend close enough so that their chests are pressing against each other, and he sinks his teeth deep into Rhys's pale shoulder.

The younger man gasps, rolling his hips back and forth still as he can feel thick shots of cum spilling into him. He whines and squirms, just at the brink of his own orgasm but without enough stimulation to quite get there.

Jack shoves Rhys's hips upwards so that he can pull out and turns to force the younger man to lay down beside him. Jack rolls with him so that he's now hovering over his partner, and he brings one hand to Rhys's dripping cock, starting to stroke him slowly as he leans down to kiss at the bite mark he's left. Suddenly, though, he bites even harder in the same place, making Rhys groan and whine in pain, thrusting into Jack's hand at the same time.

As he sinks his teeth in even harder, Jack can taste blood starting to well up on his tongue. Soon as he does, he pulls away, lapping at the open wound, and moves on to another area of the younger man's shoulder.

Only moments after Jack has broken his skin for the second time, Rhys cums with loud, desperate, pained moans. Jack pulls away and looks down at Rhys with a gentle smile, kissing his boyfriend on the lips several times as Rhys cums all over his hand, streaking the corset with ropes of it which contrast beautifully as it drips down the black stripes over his sides. The younger man pants hard as he starts to come down from it, his hips still rolling lazily as he rides out his orgasm. Jack nuzzles against Rhys's neck and kisses over the bite marks he's left, though it isn't long before he pulls away and grabs a few tissues to clean the cum off of his partner.

“Let me clean those up,” the older man mumbles, gently grazing his thumb over one of them, which still slowly ooze blood. He pushes himself up off of the bed, going to the master en suite bathroom to grab his first aid kit. Meanwhile Rhys slips off the tutu and throws it aside rather carelessly, reaching around himself to try to unlace his corset. The stretch against the skin on his shoulder makes the bite marks sting and draws forth a new trickle of blood, and he quickly gives up and grabs a few tissues to press against the small wounds.

Jack sits down next to Rhys, placing the first aid kit beside him on the mattress and motioning for the younger man to turn around. He unlaces the corset with surprising ease, and Rhys ponders that he must have done something like it before. _Of course_ , Rhys thinks to himself. _There's nothing Handsome Jack_ hasn't _done._

As soon as Jack has helped his boyfriend out of the restrictive clothing, he has Rhys turn back toward him and pulls out what he needs from the small box beside him. The bottle he pulls out is one that Rhys recognizes as isopropyl alcohol, and he reflexively winces just at the sight of it.

“You don't actually have to do this, do you?” He squirms uncomfortably as he watches Jack wet a cotton ball with it, and the look the older man flashes him is an obvious 'yes.'

“Bites from humans are more likely to get infected than most animal bites. I'm not risking anything.”

With no warning, Jack presses the cotton ball against the raw, bleeding flesh. Rhys whines, screwing up his eyes and biting his lip. “So you're saying you have a dirty mouth?” The mocking question comes out as a hiss through gritted teeth, but he does manage to smirk at his boyfriend.

Jack snorts out a quiet laugh. “Well yeah, but I think you already knew that.” He glances up from where he's been concentrated on dabbing the alcohol over the bites he's left, locking eyes with Rhys and raising his eyebrows as he gives him a playful smile. It only takes him a moment to go back to his work, swabbing at the other bite mark.

“Here, these need Band-aids.” Jack reaches into the box to grab two of them, placing the gauze pads over the bites, which are still very minorly welling with blood. He smooths the adhesive wings of it out over the sensitive skin around the small injuries, then leans down to gently kiss at both of them. “That better?”

Rhys sighs. “They sting,” he admits, his face flushing. “but it kind of feels good.” He bites his lip gently and glances up at Jack from under his thick eyelashes. “I really love it when you bite me.”

Jack lets out a little huff of amusement, closing the first aid kit, throwing away the cotton ball and bandage wrappers. He places the little red box onto the nightstand, turning to peck at Rhys's cheek before he starts to strip himself of his remaining clothes. He flops down onto his side of the bed, lifting the sheets up for Rhys to lay down beside him. The younger man rests his head on his partner's chest, wrapping his organic arm around Jack and gently nuzzling into the skin at the intersection of his neck and his shoulder.

"You're feeling better, I assume?”

A little hum escapes Jack as he starts to pet his boyfriend's sweat soaked, mussed up hair. “Yeah, honey, I do. You're a good little boy, baby.”

Rhys chuckles and reaches up to gently flick Jack's nose. “Yeah, yeah. I love you, Daddy. Now get some sleep.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sjdkdfg eugh sorry if the quality of my writing starts slipping, guys. PTSD and psychosis are kicking my ass rn XDD im trying tho aaaahhhh


	7. Day 7: Aphrodisiacs/ Praise Kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate title: jack is a salty boi and everyone is horny
> 
> this is probably a bunch of garbage

Rhys always loves it when Jack is desperate for him. Every time one of them has to go on a business trip, be it planetside or to another Hyperion station, Jack always returns horny and wanting, and once they finally get to have sex again Jack is always rough and loud. Despite the sturdiness of it, Jack even one time broke the bed frame during one of their overly passionate sessions, leaving Rhys almost too sore to move the next morning.

It's been months since Rhys has last seen Jack. The CEO is on an important business trip to Promethea as he tries to make plans for Hyperion settlements and ways to improve the economy of the planet. Meanwhile, Rhys has been called away to the Olympus station to study their newest power system, evaluating its effectiveness to decide whether or not it should be installed in Helios.

Jack, of course, calls Rhys most every day, expecting Rhys to do the same when he's able to. Sure, phone sex is fun and is certainly preferable to jerking off alone, but it can only really satisfy either of them so much. Besides, both of them are almost constantly busy and have little time free. Jack tends to work late into the night while Rhys is busy in the morning, so usually their sleep schedules are opposite each other. A few times, Jack has hyped himself up on coffee (and maybe amphetamines, _maybe_ ) to stay awake to talk to Rhys late in the night, not only for something sexual but to catch up with his boyfriend as much as possible before he crashes and needs to sleep. Both men occasionally slip away in the middle of the day, ditching work to hide somewhere and jerk off to each other's voices, but more often than not they aren't able to interact at all.

Rhys, being significantly less busy than his boyfriend, tends to sext Jack out of nowhere whenever he's free, even though the older man usually isn't able to respond. He'll sometimes wake up to a cavalcade of messages from the CEO and try to answer them despite being bleary eyed and hazy. Occasionally he gets some gently mocking responses from his boss, having typed near gibberish in his hypnopompic state.

The sharp sound of Jack's ECHO ringtone jerks him awake. He sits bolt upright immediately, nearly panicked until he finally processes what's happening. He flops back down on the bed, groaning, and activates the holographic display of the ECHO. Rhys's smiling face appears in front of the older man, looking awake and well rested. “Hey, Jack! Thank god you answered.” He runs a hand through his hair as he expression gives away his sheepishness. “I woke you up, didn't I?”

“Yes.” Jack's voice is still husky and thick with sleep, and he rubs at his eyes to try to wake up. He barely manages to stifle a yawn, stretching himself out on the bed.

Rhys winces. “Shit, I'm sorry.” He clears his throat, pointedly looking away as he watches Jack's muscles flex with his movement. Of course the asshole was shirtless. “Uh, look. I'm gonna be able to leave Olympus tomorrow, and I was wondering how long you think you'll be getting back to Helios.”

Jack narrows his eyes. “You called to ask me when I'll be home? Damn, you must be _really_ missin' me, huh babe?” He winks, and Rhys flushes bright red.

“Well, _no_ ,” the younger man chokes out, trying to ignore the way Jack starts to chuckle at him. “If you're going to be much longer getting back I figured maybe I could head there. Yknow, meet you on Promethea.”

Immediately, the CEO frowns and pushes himself to sit up. “Abso-fucking-lutely not,” he barks, his teeth baring subconsciously. “This piece of shit planet is _dangerous_ , Rhys.”

“I survived Pandora,” he counters, but that only makes Jack's frown deepen and draws a snarl from his throat.

“This is a whole different caliber of dangerous, _idiot_.” His expression softens a bit as Rhys flinches, and the CEO drags a hand over his face in exasperation. “I'm sorry, honey. Look, you have no idea what this shithole is like, okay? If you think that Pandora is bad, have I got some news for you.” He flops back down, heaving one hell of a sigh. “Hyperion has the biggest military presence on Promethea, right? No one else wants to fuck with this place. To every other company it's just a money hole. Just a waste of time and resources.” He rolls over onto his side, hugging his pillow as he tries not to let his temper flare again. “Ten fucking thousand Hyperion troops just protecting this settlement site. Seriously, you'd think that these frickin' _bandits_ would have enough self preservation instinct not to attack this damn place, but it hasn't fucking stopped 'em before now!”

Rhys can feel the blood run from his face. “Holy shit,” he breathes, and there's a note of panic in his voice. “Jesus Christ, Jack, what the hell happened? Are you okay? Please tell me you're safe.”

As he heaves a heavy sigh, Jack waves his hand almost dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, a minor bullet wound, that's all.”

“What!?” Rhys is wide eyed and has started to nearly hyperventilate now, gaze flicking around rapidly in abject horror. “Jack, I'm coming down there _now_.”

The older man groans, butting his forehead into the pillow in frustration. “No, you aren't. I'll block the clearance of your damn shuttle if I have to, Rhys.” He looks back up at the display and gives his boyfriend a gentle smile. “Look, it isn't that big of a deal, seriously. I've gotten shot probably thousands of times, okay? This was just minor shit, no major bleeding, my vital organs are okay, nothing hit an artery or a vein. Just chill out.” He groans, laying his head back down. “The big problem is how many troops were wiped out. I mean, yknow, grand scheme of things I guess about a thousand dudes isn't like... _that_ bad. Their families sure will be pissed, but like, that'll be kinda funny. Yknow, the thing is, we can really only send so many guys down here. I mean, this place kind of _is_ a money pit and I don't wanna lose so many troops that I have to order more down. We have a shitton of money at our disposal and everything, but why spend that on a bunch of guys who're probably gonna die.” He finally takes a breath at the end of his manic rant, sighing as he lets it out. “Sorry, just... this is so _frustrating_. And it doesn't help that I'm fuckin' _horny_.”

Rhys can't help but snort in laughter, although his chest is still tight with anxiety. “So am I,” he admits almost shyly, looking down to his feet. “I just really want to see you and I don't want to have to wait until you're done with your project there. I know it's probably gonna take a while and I just...” He looks up, meeting eyes with the CEO. “I miss you.”

As soon as the words are out, Jack licks his lips and grins suggestively at the younger man. “I bet ya do, kiddo,” he purrs. “You got some time to have some fun, sweetheart?”

Rhys huffs in annoyance. “I didn't mean like that.” He pauses. “Well, I _did_ , but mostly I mean I miss _you_ , not that I miss your dick.”

“You totally do miss my dick, though.”

“Well yeah, how could I not?”

Jack huffs in laughter, rolling back over onto his back and yawning heavily. “Alright, alright,” he mumbles, “lemme make a deal with ya, huh?” He smirks as he sees Rhys's eyes widen in interest. “I need a break from the constant goddamn stress of this place, so how about this. You get your sweet little ass to Helios and I'll come and visit you, huh? I can't stay long, but I think I can take a few days. How's that, sweetpea?”

Rhys gasps in shock, a giddy grin spreading across his face. He nods almost frantically, half convinced he's dreaming, and immediately he's walking. “Fuck, Jack that'd be amazing! I'm gonna go get on the shuttle right not.”

“God, you must _really_ miss me then, huh? Demanding that the cronies rush their schedule for ya? Surprised ya aren't runnin'.”

“Look, I gotta go, call me when you get to Helios or something, okay? Or when you're about to arrive. Or before you're about to leave, I dunno. Just call me!”

Jack snorts. “Alright, alright,” he says with a chuckle, “take it easy on me. I'm an injured old man.” He and Rhys share a little laugh, and he sits up with another humongous stretch. “Look, don't worry, I'll try to get there as soon as I can, alright? I can't promise anything about time, but I swear I'll be there today. Better be ready for me kitten.” He follows that up with a wink, and promptly hangs up, sending orders to the shuttle bay to prepare for his departure.

Before he's able to get himself into his clothes, Jack realizes, he has to change the dressing on his wounds. He grumbles out complaints to no one as he goes about the process, unwrapping the gauze from around his waist and removing the square of it that rests over the bullet hole, replacing both with fresh ones from the medical kit he has at his bedside. He only just remembers to administer a med hypo to encourage the wound to heal, hissing as he feels the needle pierce into his muscle.

With how quickly Jack throws his clothes on, he ends up looking wildly disheveled, not bothering to put his boxers on and instead shoving them into his suitcase carelessly. He packs up his weapons, spare clothes and first aid kit, glad for the sparse collection of things he had bothered to bring with him

Despite not having a mirror, Jack lazily tries to push his hair into its usual style using one hand as he drags the suitcase behind him with the other. There aren't many people milling around outside when Jack exits his private barracks, but the few who are immediately jump to attention and salute. Jack ignores them, striding past without acknowledging them at all, wordlessly making his way to the shuttle port.

“Handsome Jack, Sir.” A voice calling from behind him gives the CEO momentary pause, and he turns on his heel with a scowl on his face. He only recognizes the man who approaches him by his uniform, the sergeant major of the Hyperion army, and it gives Jack momentary pause. “Sir, we received notice that you've booked a shuttle to leave Promethea.” The man's voice is muffled behind his helmet, and Jack rolls his eyes. “I would urge you to reconsider. Your presence is needed here, Sir.”

“My _presence_ is needed wherever the fuck I wanna go, dipshit.” Jack takes a pace forward, and although he's slightly below eye height with the man he still seems to tower over him just through his air of superiority. “I'm going where I damn well please, and I'll be back when its convenient for _me_. If you incompetent chucklefucks can't get by without me around to help you wipe your asses, why don't I just kill you myself and save the Prometheans the trouble?” He starts to reach for the pistol in his holster, and his subordinate immediately backs away. Jack turns without another word and begins stalking back toward the shuttle bay.

Although the shuttle technicians all seem distressed at seeing Jack leave, they obediently go about preparing for a launch. Jack enters the private shuttle before anyone else can interrupt him again, pressing the interior button next to the door to make it slide closed.

“Hey, pumpkin.” Rhys seems shocked to have Jack calling him back so soon but his face lights up as he sees the gentle smile on his boyfriend's face. “The shuttle's gonna be takin' off in a couple minutes, alright? I might just stay on here talkin' to ya during the flight, if that's okay.”

Rhys's eyes widen. “Oh, well... I was kind of... planning some stuff.” He looks away as Jack snorts out a laugh. “I was, yknow, hoping to surprise you.”

Jack shrugs, though he does seem a little disappointed. “Alright, kitten,” he murmurs. He struts over to the sitting area of the shuttle, flopping down on one of the surprisingly luxurious couches provided. “Look, you get done whatever you need to get done and call me later if you can. Yknow, as long as it won't ruin the surprise.” He winks to accentuate his point, and Rhys squeaks in surprise.

“S-sure,” the younger man stammers out, trying not to break out into a giddy smile. “I'll see what I can do!” He wiggles a little in excitement before waving to Jack through the ECHO camera display. “I'll see you later. Bye, honey!”

The call disconnects before Jack can even respond, and he gives a little hum. He can't put his finger on what exactly Rhys is planning, given that he has no real clues to go on, but he suspects that he'll return home to find his boyfriend wearing some skimpy outfit. Maybe Rhys will truss himself up again, cuff his own wrists to the headboard of the bed. He had done that once before, even put a gag into his mouth before he did, and Jack had to admit that it had been one hell of a surprise.

Although comparatively the flight from Promethea could be considered somewhat short, Jack knew that every minute of the hour and a half voyage would feel hellishly long. He kicks his feet up onto the couch and lays back, his hands behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling. He knows he'll probably fall asleep like this, having been woken up at an odd hour considering the way his sleep schedule has been completely mangled by his work, and laying down again seems to have sent a message to his brain that it's time to doze off again.

The chime of his ECHO device maybe half an hour later jerks Jack out of his shallow nap. He recognizes it as a text tone, opening the chat display and smiling sleepily as he sees that it's from Rhys. A picture has been sent through, and as soon as it loads Jack can feel his face flush behind his mask.

Depicted on the gently flickering display is a picture of Rhys in daisy duke shorts, his ass turned toward the camera as he bends at the waist ever so slightly. He's wearing one of Jack's shirts, a black button up that the man himself almost never wore, about two full sizes too big for his slender body. Below it was the caption 'Sorry, I just couldn't wait to show you. Do you think it looks pretty on me, Sir?”

Jack hums deep in his throat, staring dead into Rhys's eyes as he studies the picture. The kid just looks so fucking _horny_ , his eyes half lidded, pupils dilated in lust, his face bright red with hints of his blush spreading across his neck and the tips of his ears.

'You're goddamn gorgeous, baby,' Jack texts back once he's finally able to pull his attention away from the suggestive photo. He can already feel himself starting to get hard just at the site of his boyfriend in those shorts, though somehow there's something even more arousing to him about seeing his own shirt draped over Rhys's slender body. 'Can't wait until I get back there,' he follows up before Rhys can send another message. 'We're gonna have so much fun ;)'

'Thank youuuuu,' Rhys texts back. 'You better hurry that cute little butt back here. Tell the pilot to step on it :P'

Jack huffs out a laugh and shuts the ECHO display off, relaxing back on the couch once more and letting his eyes close, intending to rest through the remainder of the journey. He finds it difficult to get a nap in, though. He dozes into a half-sleep state a few times, but his body and mind are too restless with anticipation to really let him relax fully, and every time he starts to doze his mind is invaded by fantasies of stripping those clothes off of his partner.

As soon as the shuttle jostles to a halt, Jack sleepily pushes himself up off of the couch. The wound left by the gunshot he had sustained has started to ache a bit, and he knows he'll need to use another med hypo and take some ibuprofen to kill the pain enough that sex won't cause any discomfort to flare up.

Once he steps out of the shuttle, Jack gives Rhys a call, one which will be voice-only in case his boyfriend is hiding any _other_ little secrets.

“Hello!” Rhys's voice is high pitched and excited, and Jack swears he can _hear_ the smile in the younger man's tone. “Are you here yet?”

“I sure am, kitten,” Jack says with a purr. He's already on his way down the long halls of the station, dragging his suitcase behind him. “Don't you worry your pretty little head, darlin', I'll be there in a second, okay? Just hold your horses.”

Rhys snorts. “Okay, okay. But you'd better hurry. I'm getting a little impatient.”

Jack picks up the pace, almost subconsciously, as he rushes to get to his penthouse. It feels to him like it takes an eternity to make his way to the nearest fast travel station, scanning the key card he always keeps in the inner breast pocket of his overcoat.

As Jack's body digitizes just outside of the doors to his penthouse, he feels an electric shiver of excitement run through him. He steps up to one side of the double door and braces his shoulder against it while he turns the knob, pushing the door open with his back and elbow as he rolls his suitcase inside behind him.

It's immediately apparent that Rhys has heard the heavy door swinging shut from the other room, as he pokes his head out and gives Jack a huge grin as soon as he sees him. Without pause, he rushes over and nearly tackles his boyfriend in a huge, tight hug. He's still wearing exactly what he was in the picture he had sent, and despite the small flare of pain up Jack's side at the rough contact of Rhys's body against his own, he feels his cock twitch in interest at the wonderful sight he gets when he looks down at his lover.

“You look even more wonderful in person,” Jack purrs, and he leans to gently press his lips in a soft kiss against Rhys's cheek. “Let me put my stuff away, alright?”

Although Rhys is reluctant to pull away from the tight embrace, he does let go after a moment and turns to lead Jack into the bedroom, running his mouth almost anxiously the whole way.

“So, I've been thinking,” he starts, turning to look back over his shoulder at Jack while he walks towards the bedroom door, “how about we do something a little different tonight? I mean, I know that usually when we see each other again after a while being apart we do something vanilla and lovey-dovey and everything, a-and it isn't that I _don't_ want to do that-” he cuts himself off as he opens the door and holds it open for Jack “-it's just that, well, I had an _idea_.”

As Jack makes his way into the bedroom, he can't help but huff out a little laugh. He more or less ignores Rhys, laying his suitcase down and opening it up to start pulling things out of it to put away. He looks up at his boyfriend, smiling at him gently. “You okay with helpin' me put this stuff away? You're way better at folding shit than I am.” Rhys just chuckles quietly, starting to fold the clothes that Jack has sat aside to be put back into his dresser while the older man puts those that are dirty in to wash. The weapons he returns to their rightful places, flipping out a hidden panel in the bedroom wall and replacing his two pistols, SMG and shotgun where he typically keeps them, pulling a hidden dagger from a leather sheath he has strapped onto his calf under his jeans. He sits that onto a shelf in the storage compartment and flips it back around once everything is in its place.

“You have to use that thing?” Although Rhys's tone is joking, there's still an underlying feeling of anxiety. He eyes the knife with heavy breathing as he imagines it, a situation in which his boyfriend is pinned down and unarmed aside from the tiny blade he keeps as a backup. The idea of it makes him shudder.

Jack smiles at Rhys with a surprising tenderness in his eyes. He steps closer, pecking at his boyfriend's cheek. “No,” he answers simply, “I didn't need to, packin' heat like that.” He taps his finger at his pistol holster and gives Rhys a wink, turning away before his boyfriend really has a chance to respond.

The older man clicks open the first aid box and pulls out a med hypo, trying to keep his back to his boyfriend. He hears Rhys gasp anyway, and he knows that the younger man is watching with terror in his eyes as Jack injects the healing fluid into the muscles around the wound in his flank. He grunts in pain, though the shaky breath he lets out afterwards is one of relief.

Rhys takes a few careful steps towards Jack as the older man tosses the used needle into the nearby garbage can. He wraps his arms gently and carefully around his boyfriend's waist, careful not to put pressure on his injury.

“How bad is it?”

Although he appreciates the concern, Jack can't help but feel a tinge of annoyance. “You realize I've, like... _died_ before, right?” He turns to look at Rhys over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “So yknow, in comparison to that it's just a little scratch.” Despite the little laugh he lets out, Rhys still looks anxious, almost as if he's going to cry, and Jack immediately feels a pang of guilt. He turns around to hug Rhys back, one hand starting to run his finger through the younger man's hair, the other rubbing small, soothing circles over the small of Rhys's back. “I'm okay, honey,” he answers in a soft, soothing voice. “It's already almost completely healed, I just need a few more med hypos and some rest.”

Rhys nods, realizing that he's started to tear up without having noticed. He nuzzles into Jack's shoulder, smearing his coat with tears as he starts to sniffle. “You could have died,” he whines quietly. “What if you had died, Jack?”

“Uh, I'd respawn?” The older man gently takes Rhys by the shoulders and pushes him back so that he can look his boyfriend in the eyes. “Look, baby, I get that you're scared; no one thought it would happen the first time and all that. I know, okay? But hey, I'm in the New-U system again now. Don't you worry, darlin'. I might come out with a few new scars, but I'm Handsome _fucking_ Jack and I'm not goin' anywhere.”

Jack huffs quietly as Rhys butts his head against the older man's chest. “You'd better not,” he huffs out. “I can't even stand you being gone for a few months-”

“Yeah, imagine how horny you'd get if you didn't have me around anymore.”

The joke catches Rhys off guard and he lets out a sincere snorting laugh, wrapping his arms around the back of Jack's neck. “Shut up,” he huffs, sobbing out a laugh against the older man's yellow Hyperion sweater. As soon as he pulls away and looks back up at Jack, he can't help but smile.

Suddenly, Rhys finds himself falling down onto the bed, pushed onto his back with Jack hovering over him. The younger man squawks in surprise, though he instinctively reaches up to run his fingers through Jack's hair as his boyfriend leans down to kiss him. Rhys reaches to grab at Jack's overcoat, pushing it from the older man's shoulders and starting to loosen his own tie as Jack throws the coat onto the floor behind him.

As soon as Jack has pulled Rhys's tie from around his neck, the younger man is already panting in want. Jack grabs at the hem of the black button up his boyfriend is wearing, pulling it up over his head without even needing to unbutton it, what with how much bigger it is on Rhys than it would fit on Jack. He can't help but smirk at the shirt in his hand as soon as he recognizes it. Although he had forgotten initially, being able to feel the fabric has brought the memory back to him— the first time he had ever taken Rhys out on a real date he had decided to dress up a bit, showing up at the restaurant in this exact shirt, a bright yellow tie and black slacks. Rhys, though, had come in his typical work clothes and unintentionally embarrassed Jack for 'overdressing.'

Rhys smirks as he notices the obvious look of remembrance on his boyfriend's face. “Yknow, I think it looks better on me than it does on you,” he teases. “At least with the shorts it doesn't look too dressy, right?”

For a moment, Jack looks annoyed, huffing as he frowns down at his giggling boyfriend. He can't help but crack a smile, though, tossing the shirt aside and leaning down rather suddenly to press a rough kiss against Rhys's lips. The younger man whines and wriggles under his partner, whimpering when Jack catches his bottom lip and tongue between his sharp teeth. As soon as his partner pulls away, Rhys starts to lick at the area where his lip has become slightly swollen. Jack strips himself of his vest and his white button up, stopping before pulling his yellow sweater over his head.

As Jack starts to lower his weight down on top of Rhys, the younger man whimpers. Jack presses himself heavily against his boyfriend's hips, rocking back and forth slowly as he can feel Rhys's cock hardening under him. Bringing his hands slowly to the hem of his sweater, Jack leers down at Rhys with a wicked smile on his face.

“You wanna see me take this off nice and slow, honey?” The older man has lowered his voice to little more than a whisper, his tone thick and dripping with lust. As Rhys nods wordlessly, Jack starts to slowly draw the fabric up his stomach, keeping up the steady rhythm he's set rolling his hips. As soon as he's pulled it up far enough to show the bandage covering his recent injury, Rhys gently runs his left thumb over the gauze. He hums quietly, stroking his fingers over the area where the bullet wound rests, slowly and lazily thrusting up into the feeling of gentle pressure against his cock.

The sound of Jack's sweater hitting the floor is barely audible over the way that Rhys has begun to moan and whine, grabbing at Jack's hips and starting to buck against his ass. The older man seems amused, starting to break the rhythm he's set just to watch Rhys try and fail to match him.

As soon as Rhys stiffens and throws his head back, Jack freezes. He can feel a small patch of dampness soak through Rhys's shorts and through Jack's own jeans, the younger man riding out his orgasm and digging his fingers into his partner's hips.

Once Rhys has finally started to come down from his orgasm, he realizes what's happened and his eyes snap open in shock. “Shit, I'm sorry!” The young man's voice is still breathless, and he lays weakly on the bed as he attempts to recover.

Jack snorts out a laugh, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend gently on the lips. “It's okay,” he coos, starting to gently pet at Rhys's hair. “Hell, I'm not surprised, actually; I mean, you're usually quick anyway, and with how long it's been... well.” He trails off into a little laugh, and Rhys flushes in shame.

With a heavy sigh, Jack pushes himself up to stand at the side of the bed. He gives Rhys a gentle, though quite self-satisfied, smile as he starts to undo his belt and holster. “Can ya get the lube, darlin'?” Rhys does just that as Jack undoes his fly and pulls his cock out stroking, himself slowly as he watches Rhys crawl to the other side of the bed on his hands and knees.

The younger man turns around and looks almost pleasantly shocked as he notices Jack leering at him, his face heating at the sight of his partner's raging erection. He sheepishly holds the lube out to his boyfriend, coming back to the other side to sit cross legged on the bed in front of Jack. He can't help but lick his lips at the sight of his partner's dripping slit, leaning forward and gently running the tip of his tongue over the head of Jack's prick.

“You said you wanted to do somethin' kinky, hun?”

Rhys nods, biting his lip in excitement and looking up at his boyfriend with wide, almost anxious eyes. He gently loops his fingers under Jack's waistband and starts to pull his jeans down until they and the boxers that accompany them are around the older man's ankles. Jack kicks out of them as Rhys scampers off to the bathroom wordlessly, coming back out with his hands hiding something behind his back.

A little thrill runs through Jack, his mind immediately running wild with possibilities. There's a very visible dark patch in Rhys's shorts, the sight of it making arousal flow through him. The younger man slowly walks towards the bed, holding out his hands to unveil what he's had hidden.

“A syringe?” Jack leans in to get a better look at it, seemingly forgetting for a moment about how hard and leaking his cock is, frowning at the softly glowing blue liquid beyond the clear glass. He recognizes it after a long moment, Rhys seemingly waiting until he does. His eyes snap up to meet with his boyfriend's. “You want to use Engorge, huh?” He can't help but hum in thought. “What's wrong, kitten, am I not enough for ya as is?”

Rhys's eyes widen and he withdraws the syringe with a little wince, looking away. “No, that isn't it,” he murmurs, looking down at his feet sheepishly. He shifts uncomfortably, taking a deep breath to try to steady himself. “I'm sorry, I-I just...” Jack says nothing, just raising an eyebrow in interest and giving the younger man a hand motion to urge him to continue. “I just thought it would be fun. I've heard that people get really, um... _desperate_ when they use this stuff, so I thought...”

A wicked little smile stretches across Jack's face as his boyfriend once again trails off shyly. “Well take your damn shorts off first, darlin'.” He eyes the wet spot in the fabric with an obvious look of lust in his eyes. “You even wearin' anything under those?”

A little whine escapes the younger man, and he sits the syringe onto the bedside table. Without even answering, Rhys starts to shimmy out of his ruined shorts, letting them slide to the floor. Jack smirks. Of course he was right.

Rhys takes a deep breath and sits back down on the bed, Jack following suit and leaning in to plant a few gentle kisses against Rhys's neck. “You know how to use that needle, darlin'?” The question catches Rhys off guard, and he turns to look at Jack in obvious confusion. “I can inject myself if you don't.”

In all truth, no, he has no idea. He had assumed that all he would have to do would be to insert the needle into a bit of muscle somewhere and push the plunger. He hands the syringe over to the older man, who reaches to the med kit still at the side of the bed. He pulls out a rubber tourniquet and ties it around his upper arm, sterilizing the inside of his elbow and quickly finding a vein to insert the needle into. Rhys flinches as he watches the needle sink into his boyfriend's skin, his flesh crawling at the sight.

“You've done this before, haven't you?”

Jack looks over, the edge of the tourniquet still caught between his teeth, and he nods as he pushes the plunger of the syringe. He lets out a little hiss at the burning liquid flowing into his bloodstream, handing the used syringe off to his boyfriend to throw away and gently pressing a small square of gauze over the place where the needle had pricked him. He releases the tourniquet, letting it drop onto the bed next to him, and bends his elbow to put pressure on the area to staunch any bleeding.

“And _that_ is how you use drugs,” Jack purrs, and he almost seems proud of himself. It sends a little chill through Rhys, the underlying implication of it gripping him with anxiety. “This is gonna take a minute to kick in, so...” Jack gives him a suggestive grin, pulling Rhys out of it and making him focus on his boyfriend.

Slowly and gently, Jack reaches up and runs his fingers through Rhys's hair. He grabs the tourniquet and gauze with the other hand, throwing it effortlessly into the trashcan behind him and scooting closer to his boyfriend.

Rhys sighs quietly as Jack leans in to kiss him, wrapping his arms around the older man so that he can pull Jack in towards him. Although it starts out sweet and tender, it doesn't take long before the two of them are wrapped in a desperate kiss. It's rough and sloppy, too much teeth, Jack's tongue thrusting into Rhys's mouth as he takes charge. Rhys finds himself on his back rather quickly afterwards, and when he looks up at Jack he sees that the older man's pupils are blown wide, irises only small rings of blue and green around the edges. Jack has already started to pant in need, his face flushed dark red under his mask, his ears and neck tinged with a hint of the blush.

Jack says nothing as he leans back to grab Rhys's thighs, pushing his legs upwards, and Rhys holds them up instinctively, hooking his hands behind his knees. Through a haze of artificially enhanced arousal, Jack searches out the lube in the top drawer of the nightstand. He wastes no time slicking his cock, Rhys's pulse beginning to pound with anticipation as Jack lines himself up.

The first thrust into his boyfriend draws a heavy sigh of satisfaction from Jack, Rhys whining at the sudden intrusion. He clenches around Jack's thick cock, gasping at the small jolt of pain it sends through him. “You feel so fuckin' good, baby,” Jack breathes, his voice husky and breathy and desperate. A growl tears from his throat, his hips bucking hard in response to the needy little moans his boyfriend lets out as the head of his cock presses to Rhys's prostate.

Rhys sighs, his back arching off the bed as Jack presses his nose against the younger man's neck. “I love you,” he breathes, nuzzling surprisingly gently against his partner's jawline, pistoning his hips in and out with ever-growing fervor. “You're so good, Rhys. I love you. _So good_.” Jack's words trail off into incomprehensible moans, his hips stilling as he cums.

As Jack's cum fill him up, Rhys whines quietly in disappointment, having not reached his own climax. To his surprise, though, as soon as Jack's orgasm has ended, he starts to thrust again. The older man's cock is surprisingly still hard, and Rhys realizes that Jack is likely going to need to go several rounds until the effects of the drug to run their course.

“You're so amazing, Rhys,” Jack breathes through gritted teeth, struggling to hold his composure enough to speak. He plants several soft kisses to Rhys's cheeks and forehead, his arms starting to shake with the effort of holding himself up. “So beautiful. Such a good boy. Always so ready for my cum, aren't you baby?” He reaches another orgasm almost immediately after he finishes speaking, another load just as large as the last filling Rhys even more.

Rhys wraps his arms around Jack's neck as the older man starts to thrust again, his cock beginning to press against Rhys's prostate again. He can feel himself getting close as Jack starts to breathe more sweet, encouraging words against the delicate skin of his neck. A long, low moan spills from Rhys's lips as he cums all over himself, shooting long ropes of it over his stomach.

By the look in his eyes as Rhys glances up, he can tell that Jack is nowhere close to done. His eyes are half lidded with lust, his body radiating heat, and his thrusting doesn't even stop with his next orgasm. Rhys's body tenses as Jack's cock still pounds into him, his body feeling spent and his nerves overwhelmed by the unending assault on his senses.

“So good,” Jack whispers, his words hardly coherent as he loses himself in pleasure. “So, so good, Rhysie. I love you, baby, you're such a good boy.” He cums once more, seeming to push himself over the edge with his own words.

Rhys gasps at the feeling of even more cum filling him, pressing a hand to his lower stomach as the influx of fluid makes him start to feel full and bloated. Jack peppers gentle kisses against his face, still panting and moaning, whimpering out praises before he finally reaches his last climax.

As soon as Jack is done, he pulls out and falls onto his back next to his partner. The older man is panting, nearly wheezing, his entire body shivering as he starts to recover from the overexertion. Rhys throws an arm and a leg over his boyfriend, nuzzling into his chest and sighing in satisfaction.

“You're amazing, you know that?” Rhys is overcome by tiredness, his body feeling heavy and his muscles relaxed in a haze of oxytocin and dopamine. He presses his nose against the older man's neck, one hand coming up to play with Jack's mussed up hair. “I love you, handsome.”

Jack huffs out a quiet laugh and starts to rub small circles between Rhys's shoulder blades. “Oh, I know,” he hums out. “I sure as hell am amazing, huh baby?” He can't help but chuckle at the way Rhys groans in annoyance. “Just kidding, sweetie. I love you too, okay?”

The two lay there in silence for a moment, just lounging on top of the sheets together. As soon as Jack has recovered enough to be able to, he sits up and yanks the blankets out from under the both of them so that they can curl up together under the silky sheets. The two pull each other in close, relishing in each other's warmth with gentle nuzzles and kisses, not even bothering to clean themselves up.

“Did you mean any of the stuff you said?” Rhys asks, and Jack can't help but frown a little. He starts to pet Rhys's hair gently, holding him close and taking deep breaths against the younger man's neck.

“Of course I did, darlin'. You're beautiful and wonderful and I fucking _love you_ , Rhys.”

There's a beat where silence stretches between the two, and Rhys pushes himself even closer to the older man. “I love you too,” he breathes. “I'm so glad that you came home just for me.”

 


	8. Day 8: Angry Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone prob gonna hate this bcuz bottom jack n top rhys but my friend said write what i want so i did that  
> also jack is an asshole. i mean so is rhys but like. ykno

Jack and Rhys argue _a lot_. Someone like Handsome Jack spending hours at a time with someone as headstrong and feisty as Rhys? It's tended to lead to overemotional, heated exchanges. Although the two usually end up still in the same bed at the end of the night— even if facing away from each other at the opposite edges of the mattress— Jack occasionally winds up on the couch. On such occasions, Rhys is always met with an icy silence while Jack makes and serves breakfast.

Today, the two have started things off with a shouting match. With Jack's nearly uncontrollable tempter, most days often did, but Rhys has learned over the past few months how to sidestep his boyfriend's irrationality and find a way to help calm him. Every once in a while, though, Rhys lets himself get just as furious and ends up matching Jack word for angry word.

Things had started off innocent, something which seemed to be a playful disagreement, but things had escalated unexpectedly. Jack had been flipping through TV channels impassively as he waited for his pancakes to reach the right shade of golden brown, watching the screen past the half-wall counter which separates the kitchen from the living room.

A cartoon had come on. _That_ was how it had started, the whole stupid fight. Jack had become absolutely giddy at the sight, his face lighting up as he did a little hop in place, rushing around the counter and coming to stand at the back of the couch with his eyes locked on the wall-mounted monitor display. Rhys had found it absolutely adorable, seeing _Handsome Jack_ get so excited over something so small. Without thinking, Rhys had come to stand next to him, trying to make sense of whatever was happening on screen. It was in the middle of an episode, he had to assume, but Jack seemed enthralled.

It was only the smell of burning that had snapped Jack out of his trance. He had shot his head up as soon as he noticed, rushing off to the kitchen in a near panic, and when he stepped back into the living room his gaze was ice cold.

It had all been stupid, and Rhys knew that, but here the two stand anyway, exchanging heated words as both of them vent anger at one another.

Sure, it had all started as some tiny thing. By the altered metric one had to adopt in response to the anger of Handsome Jack, he had initially just been _annoyed_. It had set their day back, he had snapped at his boyfriend, and in a way Rhys couldn't disagree; the two of course had work to get to, and with how much Jack hated lateness Rhys could understand his ire.

“You can't expect me to do everything for you while you're distracted, you know?” Rhys asks calmly. “Would if I could, but you know that isn't possible, okay? Just... pay more attention to what you're doing.”

Jack can't help but snarl at those words. “Oh, ' _pay attention_ ,' huh?” The TV was flipped off, letting cold silence stretch between them “'Pay attention,' he says. 'Oh, it's that easy, Jack! Pay more attention!'” The older man groans in wild exasperation, drawing his hands over his unmasked face. “God, you know how fuckin' stupid you sound when you say that shit to me? Look, you're the... _responsible_ one here. You know how I am. You gotta help me out here, Rhysie, baby.”

Within only a few seconds, Jack has gone from his boiling anger to his usual casual demeanor and comes to put his hand on Rhys's shoulder. When he's swatted away, though, it gives him pause.

“'You know how I am' is not an excuse, Jack,” the younger man answers with a surprisingly calm tone. “You can work on who you are, try to change and-”

“Oh, change?” The fury is back in Jack's voice once more, and he takes a step closer so that he's towering over his boyfriend. “Yeah! Let me just _'change'_ for ya, huh? Want me to do it now?”

“Jack-”

“No, no, here watch! I'll do it. Lemme just-”

“You know that's not what I meant.”

As Jack thrusts his face only inches away from Rhys's, the younger man steps back so that he's bracing against the back of the couch. “Oh, that's not what you mean?” His voice is a low growl in his throat. “I get distracted for one _goddamn_ second by something that I like and it's some fuckin' problem with me, huh? I spend all goddamn day in my office, focusing my ass off and working my fingers to the bone, but the second I get distracted by something-”

Rhys holds up a hand, and to his surprise Jack actually stops. “That's not my problem with this, Jack,” he murmurs quietly. “You know I can't cook. You expect me to watch your pancakes and keep them from burning?” He lets out an anxious little laugh. “I think they probably would have come out _worse_ that way.”

The sigh that Jack lets out is one which signals he's trying to hold back his rage. “You. Can. Learn.” He accentuates each word with a hand motion to make himself clear. “I can't just _pay attention_ , Rhys, but you can learn how to fucking cook.”

“You would have it a lot easier trying to focus if you stopped doing cocaine.”

Jack's eyes widen, and he wraps his hands around the younger man's throat, though he applies no pressure. “You little _fuck_!” The words are filled with a surprising amount of vitriol and hatred, and he crowds into Rhys's space even more than he already had. “This is not about the fucking _drugs_ , you moron! I _get_ that you fuckin' hate it; you don't have to bring it up every time we fuckin' argue.”

Although Rhys has managed up until then to keep himself mostly composed, a wave of anger floods him at what Jack's said. “It's relevant, Jack,” he snaps. “You act different when you're high! I just watched you take a shot of bourbon and do a line of coke before you go to work! You do realize how that impacts _me_ , right?”

Jack throws his hands up and raises his voice into the most mocking tone he can manage. “Ohhh, yeah, important Mister Rhysie,” he wails. “Tell me, what the fuck do _you_ do all day that's so important?”

“My job _is_ importa--”

“You had the chance to be the _President_ of this whole frickin' station, but no. You turned it down to go back to your shitty dead-end job in middle management.” Jack huffs in disdain and takes a step away from the younger man. “Your mother must be so proud.”

Rhys's voice is icy cold when he speaks. “My mother is dead, Jack.”

A long moment of silence stretches between the two of them as they lock eyes. Rhys still looks furious, while Jack is wide-eyed and horrified.

“What, no witty rejoinder?” Rhys snarls the words through gritted teeth. “No funny comeback?”

Jack starts to wring his hands together anxiously. “I didn't know.”

That seems to bring a whole new wave of fury in the younger man. “Oh, you didn't know? That's your excuse? I fucking _told_ you, Jack! We talked for _hours_ one night because you said you wanted to get to know me. Don't you fucking remember that? Last Valentines day?”

There's a long moment where Jack doesn't respond, just starting in shock. “No?”

The breath is shocked out of Jack when Rhys shoves him back against a wall. Immediately, Jack is assuming that this is going to be a fight, but Rhys crushes his lips against his boyfriend's without missing a beat. Jack instinctively tries to push Rhys back to switch places with him, but the younger man pins him back by his shoulders, his robotic arm across Jack's chest.

“How about I remind you then, Jack?” The younger man's voice is a low growl, and as he watches Jack's eyes widen in surprise, a sly smile crosses Rhys's lips. He takes Jack by the shoulder and shoves him towards the bedroom door. “You get yourself ready. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll feel it into next week. Maybe that'll help you remember, huh?”

Jack is shoved roughly through the door to their bedroom, and despite his shock, he obeys. He's only ever been on the bottom a handful of times, three of those five times having been with Rhys. He was generally still anxious about it, but with Rhys this furious with him he was willing to do it if only for his boyfriend's benefit.

The fury still hasn't vented from Rhys's face when Jack returns from his preparations. The younger man points emphatically towards the bed. “Bend over the side and spread your legs apart.” Without another word, he stalks off to the closet where Jack stores his toys, not even staying to see if the older man obeys him. He comes back with a metal spreader bar and a set of thigh restraints, both of which make Jack draw in an anxious gasp.

As the restraints are put in place, Jack has started to squirm. His arms being held behind him by the restraints for some reason thrills him, although he instinctively struggles against them. He knows that Rhys intends not to waste time as soon as he hears the top drawer of the nightstand slide open and closed as the younger man pulls out a bottle of lube. The top of it clicks open and it's only moments after that he feels Rhys's slick fingers press at his entrance.

Jack can't hold back a gasp at the feeling of Rhys pressing into him, checking that his partner has stretched himself enough. His fingers seek out Jack's prostate and as soon as he hears Jack gasp, Rhys pulls out and starts to lube up his cock.

Rhys thrusts in unexpectedly and Jack can't help but whine, tensing involuntarily. He struggles a little against the restraints, and although he makes an attempt to push back against Rhys's cock, the younger man has him pinned by the back of his neck much too hard for Jack to move much at all.

After a few particularly rough thrusts, Rhys leans down to bite at the shell of Jack's ear. “Say you're sorry.” He follows it up with several long thrusts that make the bed shake, and the older man lets out a little growl.

“You're the only one who's gonna be sorry.” Jack tries his hardest to sound menacing, but his voice comes out weak and breathy, trailing off into a moan as Rhys pushes against his prostate.

“ _Say you're fucking sorry, Jack_ ,” Rhys hisses, and the next few thrusts force Jack's face into the bedspread. Rhys presses him down by the back of his head, fucking into him brutally until Jack starts to squirm as he suffocates.

As soon as Rhys lets Jack up for air, and once he's taken in a huge gasping breath, he starts to whine out pitiful apologies. “I'm sorry!” He manages to press back against Rhys's thrusts ever so slightly, feeling himself getting close already. He would never admit it to anyone, least of all Rhys, but he occasionally enjoyed being on the bottom. Of course, he always plays it off as doing Rhys a favor when he lets his boyfriend top, but Jack loves it as much as he suspects Rhys does. And more over, Jack _enjoys_ being punished.

Just as Jack feels his orgasm about to peak, Rhys's hips still. The older man attempts to rock back against his partner's cock even as he can feel thick shots of cum filling him.

Rhys pulls out without a word, tucking his spent cock back into his boxers. The shackles around Jack's ankles release and his hands are freed from the leather cuffs, the straps on his thighs slipping off as Rhys undoes them.

“Well, time for work.” Rhys's voice is forced to be bright and cheery, and he tosses the toys over to the base of the closet door. “Don't wanna be late, right?”

Despite the shock this leaves Jack with, he isn't able to get a word in before Rhys winks at him and saunters out of the room, leaving to get to the office while Jack still lays there in shock.

The two are already late, Jack knows, and this is just Rhys's way to punish him.

As he fucks into his fist in complete desperation, Jack has already begun to plan his revenge.

 


	9. Day 9: Sthenolagnia (muscle/strength kink)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sgjdg ive never written or even read anythign like this before so i hope its not garbage aHHH

Despite spending most of his days since his 'resurrection' behind a desk, Jack is somehow still a sturdy wall of muscle. Rhys has no idea how the hell his boss can maintain it, being a chronic overeater and near full time desk jockey, but somehow Jack is still unusually strong. Sure, he isn't as toned as some people— Vaughn, for instance— but under a small layer of fat are muscles built into something formidable. The kind of strength Jack possesses is typical of a Vault Hunter, of course, and although that era of Jack's life is well behind him now, his body still reflects the sincere effort he had once put into achieving his goals.

Rhys has always admired the power that Jack possesses, and although at first he had been much more interested in the command Jack held over Hyperion, once the two had hooked up for the first time he had started to appreciate the older man's physical power as well.

As much as Rhys wishes he would, Jack tends not to walk around shirtless. A few times he has, and only then because of intense praise and reassurance from Rhys, and still only on a good day. Jack was generally still extremely self conscious about the scars left by years of abuse and maiming, and despite all of Rhys's encouragement Jack is still hesitant to ever be seen without his shirt.

At Rhys's request and near constantly begging, Jack now lounges on the couch with his boyfriend, wearing only his boxers early in the morning. The CEO has his head laying in his PA's lap as the younger man slowly traces his fingers across Jack's chest. The TV drones on in the background, turned to some horrible reality show that Jack had apparently once cared about before he died.

“God, this shit has gone down hill,” he comments absently, stretching out and turning so that he's facing away from the television. Rhys grabs the remote and turns the volume down so the audio is little more than a hum, bringing his hand up to rest on Jack's shoulder.

Although Rhys has every intention of responding, telling Jack that maybe the show had _never_ been good, he feels the older man flinch under him. Jack swats his boyfriend's hand away and looks up at him with a scowl. “Don't.” He covers his shoulder up with his opposite hand, hiding the two puffy scars that grace his skin there. He keeps his eyes locked with Rhys's as if trying to make a point, his frown only intensifying as his boyfriend says nothing with a deeply saddened expression.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” Rhys says quietly, pressing his hand against Jack's cheek with a soft touch. “You know that I think you're beautiful, Jack.”

The older man huffs, though he just looks more annoyed at that than anything. “I know I am,” he says with a sigh. “My scars are the only fuckin' flaw I have.” He places his hand gently over Rhys's, lacing their fingers together. “Look, I just don't like you touching them, okay? It feels all... gross.”

Rhys sighs, moving his hand from Jack's cheek to slowly run it down the older man's chest and stomach, moving it back up slowly, teasing. Jack groans quietly as he tries to hold back a laugh, and although Rhys does momentarily move his fingertips over the wide scar on Jack's chest, the older man doesn't seem to mind because of how fleeting it is. Rhys can feel muscle tensing and relaxing under Jack's tanned skin as he shifts to look back at the TV, rearranging himself into a more comfortable position.

“You're so fucking strong, aren't you, honey?” Rhys's voice is soft and sincere, though Jack looks at him in confusion.

“You mean like... emotionally?”

Rhys lets out a little snort of laughter, shaking his head. “No, no,” he clarifies, “I mean physically.” He pauses for a moment, frowning as he seems to think. “Well, you're both, but...”

Jack smirks, a low rumble of a chuckle reverberating through his chest. He stretches his arms up so that he can rest his head on them, arching his back off the couch in a stretch. “Yeah, yeah, I know, Rhysie,” he purrs. “I'm a real Adonis. You don't gotta try 'n flatter me, babe.”

As Rhys watches Jack's body move, he feels an unexpected wave of arousal wash over him. His cock twitches as he looks down and studies his boyfriend; Jack's chest and shoulders are wide and defined, the size of his bicep muscles a sign of how powerful his body really is. Although the older man isn't sporting visible abs, his stomach a little soft and chubby instead of defined, Rhys knows that his boyfriend has a strong core, the extent of it somewhat visible in his flanks. Jack's legs are probably the most powerful, toned muscles of his entire body. His thighs are thick with calves to match, further evidence of his days as an adventurer, and the unbidden image of having his head trapped between those thighs makes Rhys whimper.

“My eyes are up here, kid.” Although Jack's tone is mocking, he has a lewd and suggestive grin on his face which reveals his sharp teeth. “I know, kitten, I'm a work of art.”

“You really are.” The words are out of Rhys's mouth before his brain can catch up, and almost immediately he realizes what a hopeless fanboy he sounds like. Jack can't help but bust out in laughter, and the two share a moment where the mood shifts away from the tense sexual atmosphere. As soon as it's passed, Rhys returns to letting his hand slowly explore Jack's body.

It doesn't take long before Jack can feel Rhys's erection starting to press at his back, turning his attention from the television once again. “Rhys,” Jack huffs out a bit sleepily, “I know I'm hot, but c'mon baby, I'm not even actin' sexy right now. What's gettin' ya so riled up?” He chuckles quietly as he locks eyes with his boyfriend. “Just bein' in my presence is enough to get ya goin', is that it?”

Rhys frowns, but the way his cheeks heat up with a blush speaks volumes. “I have _Handsome Jack_ half naked laying in my lap. How could I _not_ get horny?”

“I think I'm a little more than half naked, actually,” Jack comments as he looks down at himself. He lets out a sigh, allowing his head to fall back, and turns to study Rhys again. “Point taken, though. God, I know _I_ couldn't look at myself like this for too long without getting' horny, so I guess I can sympathize.”

Although Rhys tries not to, he ends up letting out an almost playful giggle. “Oh hush, you,” he purrs out, gently flicking Jack's nose and ruffling his hair.

It surprises Rhys when Jack suddenly sits up, turning so that his head rests on the opposite side of the couch from Rhys, kicking his feet up into his PA's lap. “So, tell me, kitten,” Jack murmurs out, “what exactly is it about me that's workin' ya up so much?”

For a split second, Rhys is dumbstruck. He looks at Jack wide eyed as he tries to formulate and answer, but for a moment all he can do is bite his lip. “Well,” he tries, “you're just so... _strong_.”

“Yeah, you said that before.” Jack waves almost dismissively. “Move on to somethin' else.”

Rhys frowns, pushing Jack's feet off of his lap and leaning over the older man so that the CEO is pinned under him. “But I don't _want_ to move on to anything else,” Rhys purrs, his voice low and sultry. He brings his lips to Jack's neck with several soft kisses, sitting back and studying his boyfriend for a moment before he continues.

Mirroring his movements from earlier, Rhys once again starts to trail his hand up and down the length of Jack's torso, and as he leans in for another kiss he shifts his touch to Jack's shoulders.

At first, the older man tenses as Rhys's fingers gently play at his scars, but as the PA starts to caress the muscles of his biceps, he relaxes slightly. Rhys presses another kiss against Jack's lips, moving to straddle him, his eyelids heavy with lust. “I bet you could throw me over your shoulder and carry me into the bedroom without even breaking a sweat, couldn't you, handsome?”

“You kiddin' me, pumpkin?” Jack's tone is gently mocking, trying to hold back a laugh despite the growing lust pooling in him. “No way you weigh a buck fifty soakin' wet. I could probably bench press you.”

With a soft, satisfied sigh, Rhys starts to rock his hips back and forth over his boyfriend, grinding on Jack's cock. “You've never bench pressed _anything_ ,” the younger man teases, bringing his hands to rest over his lover's pecs and once again leaning forward to quickly press a kiss to Jack's lips. “You probably could, though, if you were to try.” Jack can't help but moan at the feeling of Rhys's ass against him, and his hands come to slip his boyfriend's pajama pants halfway down his thighs. He tries to push Rhys off of him enough to pull his cock through the fly of his boxers, but Rhys catches him by the wrists and pushes them over his head.

With that, Jack lets his head fall back against the armrest, rolling his hips lazily to match Rhys. He's more than happy to relax and let his boyfriend take charge sometimes, especially when he's still sleepy in the morning. Of course, he'd much rather Rhys be riding his cock than grinding him, but he can't exactly complain.

Rhys slowly runs his hands over Jack's flanks, feeling the strength of his oblique muscles as they flex with each gentle thrust. He starts to bounce up and down on the older man's cock, drawing a soft whine from Jack, Rhys flashing him a sly smile. “You want inside me, Jack?” The younger man's voice wavers a bit as he slams his hips down against Jack as hard as he can without hurting either of them. Jack nods emphatically, his hands now free to grab Rhys by his hips, and as the younger man leans back to brace his hands against Jack's thighs, the older man reaches up to slip his hands under Rhys's shirt.

“Hell fucking yes I do,” Jack breathes, pulling Rhys down with each bounce as his cock twitches at the idea. “Please, baby.” Although Jack is typically much too concerned with his pride to beg for sex, considering how hard he is now, he's willing to say or do anything to have Rhys ride his cock.

As Rhys leans down to breathe against Jack's ear, he goes back to rolling his hips over Jack's clothed prick, drawing a groan from the older man. “Too bad,” the PA whispers, leaving a few gentle bites at Jack's ear and neck. “You're gonna cum in those cute little boxers for me, then I'm gonna go get ready, and _then_ I'm gonna ride you.” He kisses at Jack's lips as he presses down even harder on his boyfriend's cock, moaning lustily in the older man's ear to spur him on.

Resigned to Rhys's plans, Jack grips at the younger man's waist and holds him down on top of him so he can grind himself up against his PA's ass to the best of his ability. A long, low moan escapes Jack, his back arching off the couch ever so slightly. He starts to pant, driving himself closer to his orgasm. Even though he knows that Rhys is going to tease him for it for weeks afterwards, if his boyfriend wants him to cum in his boxers then he's more than willing to do so.

Rhys lowers his voice to a soft, husky hum, bracing his hands against Jack's shoulders once more and pressing his lips as gently as he can against the older man's. “Cum for me, sweetheart,” Rhys whispers against Jack's lips, pressing his nose against his boss's, sharing his breath. “Go ahead, Jack. I want you to cum in your boxers for me.”

Jack starts to squirm in pleasure, bucking his hips in desperation until he finally reaches his climax. He wraps his arms around Rhys's back, pinning the younger man to his body with his thick, muscular arms. Rhys can feel Jack's abdominal muscles clenching under his own stomach as the older man throws his head back in a pathetic whine. Jack shivers as he cums, Rhys purring in satisfaction as he feels the wetness of Jack's release soaking the front of his boxers.

“Fuck, Rhysie.” Jack's voice is a breathy sigh as he relaxes back against the couch, his eyes fluttering closed as he steadies himself and slows his breathing.

“Don't get too comfortable just yet, stud,” Rhys teases. “We're going another round as soon as I get myself ready for you.” He kisses gently along Jack's jawline and down his neck. “Maybe you can pin me down and get rough with me. I think I'd like that, if you feel up for it.”

Jack huffs quietly, reaching up to stroke Rhys's cheek weakly. “Yeah, you go get ready, I'll rest up until you're done with that, huh?”

Pushing himself up off of the couch, Rhys smiles down at his boyfriend and lets his silky pajama pants slip down his legs and around his ankles. “I was hoping that maybe you'd carry me to the bedroom, handsome.” He grabs Jack by the hand and pulls him so that the older man is sitting upright. “You carrying me bridal style and throwing me down so you can fuck me sounds _really_ fun, don't you think?”

A little sigh escapes Jack as he gets to his feet, and although he's still a little weak as he recovers, he sweeps Rhys off of his feet with relative ease. He grunts with the effort of it, though his grip on his boyfriend is strong and steady. Rhys wraps his arms around the older man's neck, curling into his lover's embrace. He relishes in the feeling of Jack's arms supporting him, his muscles tense with the effort, but all too soon he finds himself being dumped onto the bed.

“Go get yourself ready,” Jack breathes out, flopping down on the mattress next to his boyfriend and curling up on the duvet. He kicks his ruined boxers off and throws them to the floor, Rhys kissing the older man's cheek gently and giggling at the adorably grumpy look he's given in return. He pushes himself up from the bed, ruffling Jack's hair as he does, and strides off to the bathroom to prepare himself.

Once Rhys returns, Jack is sitting up, lounging back against the pillows and sipping at a bottle of water he's fetched from his mini fridge. He gives Rhys a sleepy smile, motioning him over and patting the bed welcomingly. “C'mon, kitten, sit down with me.”

“I don't suppose you're ready for round two yet?”

Jack lets out a little snort. “Not quite, hun,” he purr, giving an almost shy smile. “Wanna cuddle or somethin'? Yknow, set the mood?”

Rhys hums quietly, leaning in to lean his head on Jack's chest, starting to run his hand over his boyfriend's flanks again. The older man lets out a few quiet huffs of laughter, squirming and nearly choking on his water. “Stop, stop, that tickles.”

Rhys chuckles quietly, kissing at Jack's neck and adjusting the pressure of his touch so he's no longer ghosting his fingers over his boyfriend's skin. “That better?”

“Lots,” Jack hums out. “What the hell's up with you, though? Sorry, I just... gotta ask.” At the look of confusion Rhys gives him, he chuckles and runs his fingers through the younger man's hair. “I mean, you seem a little... yknow, _particularly_ obsessed with my body today. “

A soft little sigh escapes Rhys, and a blush graces his features as he starts to trail his fingers over Jack's chest in small circles. “I'm _always_ obsessed like this, I just usually keep it a little more... subtle.” He nuzzles the sensitive skin between Jack's neck and shoulder, feeling the strength of his boyfriend's trapezius muscle under his nose. “You're just so... strong.” He breathes out a soft little huff and presses an open mouthed kiss to the older man's neck, sucking a faint bruise into his neck. “Maybe you can rough me up a little for round two. I think I'd like that.”

 


	10. Day 10: Hair Pulling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a warning, there are very brief and vague mentions of vomit. it isnt emeto levels by any means, but if you have emetophobia you may want to be cautious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back to top jack because truly i suck at writing him as a bottom

Ever since the two had first met, Timothy has always been terrified of Jack. Sure, the Hyperion CEO wasn't quite so capricious or sadistic back then as he's become in recent years, but even then he had had some kind of darkness in him. Considering that Jack had facilitated changing Tim's entire body and erasing his identity for his own personal benefit, one could easily come to the conclusion that he was already to some extent megalomaniacal. Although the two had parted ways after slaying the Sentinel, Jack still occasionally contacted his body double, calling him in for odd jobs here and there. Tim is always loathe to accept work from his former boss— technically _still_ his boss, seeing as his employment was never formally terminated— but the cost of living undercover and hidden in Opportunity wasn't exactly cheap. Sure, he was offered discounts by virtue of being Handsome Jack's direct underling, but with the meager salary he was drawing while not actively working, things were still tight.

Although he wasn't exactly proud of it, once he had started having issue paying his rent Tim had started to spend time working at the “Pleasure Palace,” as Jack had so named it. His anonymity was protected to some extent by his mask and some hair dye to hide where the modifications of his body had started to wear away with time, but even still he felt ashamed of himself and had trouble meeting the eyes of people on the street.

At first, Timothy had generally been horrible. At the age of thirty he had still been a virgin, much too shy and self conscious to have accepted the advances from the women, men and other individuals who tried to make a pass at him after his surgery. Most of his issue had been his appearance not being his own anymore and knowing that no one was interested in _Timothy Lawrence,_ but upon moving to Opportunity he had realized he had a chance to use his new appearance to his advantage.

There had been a considerable period in which Tim was... _disappointing,_ to say the least. He's improved, sure, and although he's still much too quick to cum, he's learned other ways to satisfy his partners. Still, though, his performance is drastically below average. He's frankly becoming upset about how things have been going for him in Opportunity, and although he can barely scrape together the money for the trip, he decides that he's in drastic need of a 'vacation' on Helios for only the second time since he had more or less parted ways with his employer.

The shuttle ride isn't an easy one; Timothy has always had a penchant for motion sickness, and the unavoidable view of the craft rocketing further and further away from the surface of Pandora inevitably has him hurling into a trash can for most of the journey. After what seems like an eternity, he finally feels the shuttle come to a jittering halt, and after another moment of dry heaving he finally steps out into the docking bay of Helios on shaking legs.

Timothy's intention isn't just that he wants to get away from the claustrophobic walls of Opportunity, although that was certainly part of it. His main motivation is _practice_. Although he's unbelievably anxious about the prospect of it, he plans on making his way to the most in-demand nightclub on all of Helios, Handsome Jack's _personal_ club, The Punchline. Being that it's VIP only, at least on most days, Tim is sure to to be granted entry. All of Jack's body doubles are entitled to access most anywhere the CEO himself is, and seeing as the place will likely be populated only by VIPs on a weekday, he can be sure that the bar will be a gathering place for wildly attractive people.

Looking like Handsome Jack himself, Tim knows that he'll have everyone there eating out of the palm of his hand.

As soon as Tim has staggered back to his little apartment on Helios and straightened himself up, he tries to gather the courage to go through with his plan. He studies himself in the mirror for a long few moments, standing there in the bathroom just running his fingers through his hair to check that the gel will hold, though as soon as he's confirmed to himself that it's styled well enough, he still hesitates.

The clock reads shortly after nine, and although the club is open until five in the morning he doesn't want to spend the better part of his night getting shitfaced. Really, drinking isn't the greatest idea for him in the first place because of the certainty of a terrible hangover, but he knows that he'll have to have some liquid courage to get through the amount of socializing he'll have to do.

As Tim steps into the automated verification scanner at the door to The Punchline, he gets another heavy wave of anxiety and for a moment he panics as he worries he might vomit again. With a deep breath, he steps through he double doors, which slide open with a pneumatic hiss. He tries to straighten his back and square his shoulders in the kind of confident posture he usually sees Jack display, and several people look up at him in shock as they see him step through.

Tim makes his way to the bar immediately, though he starts second guessing himself on what he should get as soon as the bartender asks what he'd like. He knows that Jack is partial to whiskey and bourbon, though he sometimes settles for tequila when he's drunk enough not to care. Tim, on the other hand, prefers 'girly drinks,' anything fruity and sweet. He worries that someone may call him out on drinking something Jack isn't usually known to enjoy, but then again who would dare question Handsome Jack?

In the end, he decides on a piña colada and makes his way over to a booth in a distant corner to sit down. He tries not to let his anxiety show as he sits there sipping his drink, splaying out over the plush white leather as he tries to casually watch the patrons. It doesn't take long before he's going back for a second drink, and then a third soon after, and soon enough he starts to feel tendrils of heat flowing through his body.

As Tim starts to work on his fourth refill, his eyes are drawn to a lanky young man making his way to the bar. He has slicked back hair and long-toed black boots, a button-up with matching black pants. If it weren't for the long yellow tie stretching straight down his stomach, one might say he looks like he's attending a funeral. The right sleeve of his dress shirt is cut off at the shoulder to leave a black and yellow cybernetic arm visible. As Tim watches him order another drink, he strides over to stand at the man's side with a surprising amount of confidence.

“This one's on me,” he announces to the bartender, and the stranger's gaze immediately snaps to look at him.

“Jack?” He seems pleasantly shocked, a smile and blush crossing his face, one which seems influenced by alcohol. He grabs his drink, taking a long sip from it as he and Tim lock eyes. “I didn't expect to see you here tonight. Thought you would be at the office until midnight. _Again_.”

Timothy freezes. He has a momentary crisis as he debates how to proceed; he could always just play along and let this guy think he's Jack, but if the _real_ Jack were to ever find out...

It doesn't take long before Tim's drunken mind is made up, only after taking another long drink from his glass. “Well,” he tries with a false tinge of confidence in his tone, “I decided to take off for the rest of the night just to come spend some time with you.”

“Jesus, really?” The younger man looks around in confusion for a moment before waving Tim back to sit down. “I never really thought that we would ever, uh... _spend time together_.”

Tim is taken aback for a moment, and a little laugh escapes him as he sits at a booth opposite to the stranger. “No, no, you've got me all wrong, uh...-” he pauses for a second “-kiddo.”

“Kiddo?” The other man stirs his drink slowly with the black straw provided to him at the bar. “What, Jack, did I not leave enough of an impression on you for you to even remember my name?”

A dulled flash of panic rushes through Timothy, tightening his chest, but he steadies himself by taking another long drink, nearly draining his glass. “Look, uh... _kitten_. I'm a busy man.”

“It's Rhys,” the other man deadpans, leaning his head on one hand. “Maybe try to remember from now on if you're planning on spending quality time with me.”

Tim hums in thought, downing the rest of his drink, relishing in the way his head has started to spin and his senses have dulled. “C'mon,” he purrs, his words slurred ever so slightly, “we've totally spent a ton of time together. You know we're close, huh?”

Rhys can't help but snort out a laugh. “Sure, if you count the sex,” he counters, and Tim can't help but laugh in return. “You didn't even remember my name a second ago.

A dismissive little sigh escapes Tim and he waves it off. “Hey, it's nothing personal, _Rhys_. I'm a little tipsy, that's all.”

“Tipsy from a few piña coladas?” Rhys rolls his eyes. “No fucking way, Jack. Bad excuse, try again. Besides, since when do you drink piña coladas?”

Tim sighs heavily, realizing that he doesn't _have_ an excuse. He matches Rhys's posture, head braced on his hand. He's heard that mirroring someone's body language is an easy way to get them to feel more comfortable with you, though Rhys doesn't seem to take the least bit of notice. “Look, I forgot, okay?” He tries to keep his tone light, almost playful. “Take it easy on me. Like I said, I'm a busy guy. Lot on my mind.” The more he talks the more he realizes that he's started to _sound_ like Jack, and he hazily wonders if maybe his boss acts the way he does because of his constant drinking.

“Always busy,” Rhys muses, poking the end of his straw at a few ice cubes floating in his drink. “So busy and yet you're here tonight, huh? Can't be _that_ busy, then.”

“Only for you, kitten. How about you drink up and we get outta here, huh?” Even as the words come out of his mouth, he can't believe he's speaking them. He knows that if Jack ever finds out about this he'll probably have Tim's head on a pike, but with alcohol impairing his judgment and the heat of arousal flaring in him at the strangely alluring man across from him, his mind forces the possible danger out of his consciousness. _It doesn't seem serious between them, anyway,_ Tim thinks.

At the promise behind Timothy's words, Rhys grabs his glass and slams his drink back with only a few big gulps. Immediately he places it down a bit too harshly on the table and gets to his feet, his eyes wide and excited. Tim follows suit, feeling as if he's swaying as he starts to walk back towards the door. He has no idea how long he's been here, and he's surprised to see that it's now half past ten when he glances down at his watch.

“So, your place?”

Rhys blinks in confusion. “Really?” He strides to walk alongside Tim, looking sideways over at him. “What's wrong with your penthouse? Did I trash it so bad last time that I'm not allowed back there?”

Tim's mind starts to run wild as he imagines what the hell the two had done to cause that much damage, presuming that Rhys wasn't being hyperbolic, and he snorts in laughter. “No, of course not. I just wanna see where you hang out, yknow? See how the other half lives.”

“Okay, rude,” Rhys mumbles, “I thought we agreed that you'd let me live that down.”

“You know me, always ready to dig up every little embarrassing thing.” Timothy can't help but chuckle at his own joke. It was certainly true of his boss, that was for sure— Jack still occasionally teased Tim with humiliating moments from their days of Vault hunting together. Sure, he didn't know the context in this situation, but he'd gotten good at improvising.

Rhys lets out a groan of annoyance. “God, no shit,” he huffs, locking arms with Tim, making both of them stagger a little. “You'll probably forget sooner rather than later, huh old man?”

“This is how you talk about me when I'm not around?”

The voice from behind them makes both men spin around as fast as their drunkenness will allow. Handsome Jack, _the real one,_ is standing behind them with arms crossed.

Tim immediately takes a step back, while Rhys's eyes widen in shock as he looks back and forth between the two identical men. “I'm s-sorry, Sir!”

As Jack's face twists into a snarl, Rhys steps between the two of them. “Okay,” his voice is surprisingly impassive as he holds up a hand to still Jack, “I have _no_ idea what's going on here. First of all, I'm really wondering why there are two of you. In addition, I have to ask how and why you were following us.” Although his speech is slurred, Rhys manages to get the words out rather eloquently.

Jack reaches to his pocket watch without a word, clicking a button on the side as he keeps his eyes locked with his double's. The cloaking device built into his watch veils Jack's body and leaves no trace of him, reappearing a moment later, now glaring down at Rhys. “He's my body double,” the CEO states plainly, shifting his gaze back to Timothy and gritting his teeth. “I think that I need to talk to him.” He pushes Rhys out of his way. “ _Alone._ ”

Jack's hands grab at the lapel of Tim's overcoat, tugging the double after him and ignoring him as Tim lets out an unending string of half incomprehensible apologies. The two arrive at a fast travel station, Jack swiping his ID card and, to Tim's surprise, chooses the option to travel to his penthouse. He had been expecting that Jack would be carting him off to his office to throw him into his personal airlock. Poetic justice, Tim would have to say, considering that the use of said airlock was the main reason he had left in the first place.

As the two of them reach the door to Jack's penthouse, the older man shoves his double through the heavy door. He pushes Timothy against the wall just beside the door frame, crowding into his space and pinning him by his shoulders. Jack's face is only inches away from his double's, a deep growl rumbling in his throat.

“So, you thought you could go behind my back and fuck my boyfriend, Tim?” Jack's hands come to the younger man's throat, and although he applies no pressure, his thumbs are positioned just over Tim's trachea, ready to strangle him the second he's given reason to. “I know you're fucking awful in bed. So, what, you wanted to get your dick wet with _my_ fucking _boyfriend_ and not even satisfy him in the process?”

Before Timothy is even able to respond, Jack catches his lower lip in a harsh bite and sinks his tongue into his double's warm mouth. He feels a little thrill run through him at the strong taste of pineapple, and it isn't long before the kiss becomes passionate and desperate. Tim ends up with his leg hooked around Jack's waist, his cock pressing against his boss's thigh as he lets out a few pathetic little moans.

Once Jack breaks the kiss, he's already moving, pulling Tim by one hand towards his bedroom as he tries to hastily pull his clothes off along the way. The two get wrapped up in another french kiss as they make it to the bedroom, only breaking it as they strip the clothes off of one another.

Tim falls back on the bed as Jack pins him down on the mattress, reaching to pull his cock out of the fly of his boxers without bothering to take them off, and before the younger man can even really respond he finds himself being flipped over onto his stomach. He reaches behind him to lower his briefs only enough to expose himself for the CEO.

Jack nearly _runs_ to the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, already lubing himself up as he makes his way back to the foot of the bed. Without even bothering to prepare his partner, he pushes himself all of the way into Tim in one swift motion. The younger man lets out a wail at the sudden intrusion, glad that he'd bothered to get himself ready before he headed to the bar, just on the off chance he would end up in such a position.

With a long sigh of pleasure already escaping him, Jack pulls Tim back against him just enough so that the younger man's legs end up braced against the floor. Jack plants his hands at each side of his double's shoulders, setting a brutal rhythm without missing a beat, leaning down to sink his teeth into the back of Timothy's neck.

Immediately, Tim is whining out pathetic moans, still not quite used to the feeling of being stretched around someone's cock, and with how thick Jack is he gets a jolt of pain with each thrust. Despite his body's instinct to pull away from the sudden intrusion, he actually starts pressing himself back against the older man.

“Obviously,” Jack growls through gritted teeth, “you need to be taught how to please a man, huh Tim?” He moans into the younger man's ear as he feels Tim clench around him after a particularly hard thrust. “How dare you th-” he cuts himself off with a loud sigh of pleasure. “How dare you think you have any _fucking_ chance of pleasing my boyfriend. You think you can fuck my boyfriend better than I can?”

“I'm sorry!” Tim can feel tears pricking at his eyes, but a long, low moan spills from his lips regardless as he rocks his hips back. “I know I'm not as good as you,” he cries, his legs starting to shake under him as he feels his orgasm already approaching. “You're fucking amazing, Jack. So goddamn good. I-I could never compete with you!”

Jack sinks his teeth into Timothy's neck again, nuzzling into his hair as he starts to pant. “You're goddamn right, Timmy. I'm better than you could ever hope to be.” His own words seem to spur him on, and he leans back so that he's standing upright as he fucks into his double. His hands come to Tim's head, fisting his hands into it his double's hair and pulling him back with each trust as if he's pulling reins to guide him.

Timothy can't help but wail and struggle in response to the feeling of the ripping at his scalp, and as Jack just starts to pull harder, Tim seriously starts to worry that his boss is going to come away with fistfuls of his hair. The feeling of pain shoots straight to his cock, and he can feel a thick drip of precum run down his shaft. He starts to slam his fist against the bed out of desperation, Jack's cock almost pressing _too_ hard on his prostate, twinges of pain shocking through him with each thrust.

A low growl rumbles through Jack's throat, reverberating through his chest, and he leans down to breathe directly against Tim's ear. The younger man feels his boss's hand on his cock, bucking into it desperately as he feels himself start to reach his climax.

“Go ahead, Timmy,” Jack whispers into his body double's ear, “go ahead and cum for daddy.”

With that, Tim lets out a loud cry as he finishes, shooting several hot ropes of cum into the older man's hand and all over the side of the bed and the floor. He claws at the duvet under him as he squirms in pained pleasure, tears starting to run down his face.

Jack grabs back at Timothy's hair with the hand not soaked in cum, pulling him in even more roughly than before as he fucks brutally into him. It doesn't take long before Jack reaches his own orgasm, leaning forward so that his chest presses against Timothy's upper back, sinking his nails into the younger man's shoulders and biting at his neck. Grunts and moans escape him, and he ruts into Tim like a wild animal as he rides out his orgasm.

Once Jack finally starts to come down and pulls out, he lets out a heavy sigh of satisfaction. He gives Tim's ass a surprisingly gentle smack, going off to the bathroom to get an alcohol swab to clean the bite marks he's left.

“Maybe next time you'll think before you try to take what's mine, huh, kiddo?”

 


	11. Day 11: Dom/Sub, Degradation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i didnt want to write any of the prompts for this day sooooo i switched it for smthin else :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> technically im uploading this after midnight of the 11th but shhh. no rules, just right.

No one in the known universe is more intolerant of insubordination or defiance than Handsome Jack.

Typically, Jack will murder and/or torture anyone who dares to disobey him or the laws he's set forth for Hyperion. Not just that, of course; the families and friends usually get some kind of repercussion for their loved one's crimes as well. Really, anyone who inconveniences Jack or tries his patience is in critical danger, and even innocent people he passes on the street aren't safe from his wrath.

Only one person is (usually) spared from Jack's horrible temper, that being Rhys, his personal pet. When he had first seen the kid at an office party, Jack knew that he had to have him. Sure, he wasn't supposed to be at that office party in the first place— he had only come upon it by pure happenstance, some crummy little shindig for middle management and their groveling underlings— but he was all too glad that fate had led him there as soon as he had laid his eyes on his new prey.

Initially, Rhys had been little more than an ornament for Jack's office, something pretty to look at when the CEO got bored. It wasn't altogether sexual in nature at the outset, though Jack did secretly take a few pictures of the kid for when he was off the clock. Instead, Rhys would tidy up the office and fetch Jack coffee, menial tasks to keep him busy so that the CEO could play it off as a real job instead of an excuse to eye up a man nearly ten years his junior.

It didn't take long for Rhys to start catching on to Jack's real intentions. When he was bent over cleaning something, he could more often than not feel Jack's gaze searing into him. Usually when he knew he was being stared at he would look over his shoulder at Jack, expecting him to look away, but every single time the CEO just locked eyes with him over the rim of his reading glasses. The older man never exactly _hid_ his ulterior motives, to be fair, but he did generally keep his mouth shut about it. Usually it was only glances and stares— the two tended to go full days at a time without speaking to each other, and even then it tended to just be a 'good morning, pumpkin' and a 'good morning, Sir' in return. Nothing more really _needed_ to be said, so the days usually passed in silence, with Jack occasionally requesting a refill of coffee or informing Rhys of some tasks he expected done by the end of the week. He was lenient and not at all demanding, and although Rhys knew he was only really being kept around as Jack's plaything, he found himself unable to complain.

The first time Jack actually _voiced_ his rather obvious grand design in employing Rhys, the younger man almost thought that he was dreaming. The CEO had hung up from a particularly important phone call which had left him fuming and screaming, throwing things across the room in a tantrum the likes of which Rhys had become all too familiar. Usually under such circumstances, Jack kept to himself at his own side of the room as Rhys worked at the other, staring out his picture windows at the vast surface of Elpis below as he chewed over his anger and eventually steadied himself enough to get back to work. That day, though, he had instead started making his way toward Rhys, shoulders squared and teeth grit.

At the sight of _Handsome Jack_ coming at him in a state of rage, Rhys couldn't help but recoil. He took several steps back until he ended up against a wall, though Jack hadn't stopped until his face was only inches from his PA's. He was nearly shaking, though the anger seemed to vent from him slowly as he huffed out hot breath into Rhys's face. He braced one hand on the wall over Rhys's right shoulder all the while, starting to tremble, almost seeming calm for a moment before slamming his fist into the tile.

As Rhys shrunk away from his boss, the CEO reeled with anger, pressing his hands against his face as he took in huge gasps of air in a desperate attempt to calm himself. “Fuck, sorry,” he growled, and when he glanced over at Rhys he had seemed much more subdued. He started to rub at his knuckles with his opposite hand, sighing in obvious relief when Rhys finally stood back to full height as he relaxed. “God, that shit pissed me off.” Jack hissed, and for a moment Rhys couldn't help but worry that another wave of rage would overtake him, though he simply rubbed at his temples. “Jesus, that wasn't even that bad, I just... _fuck_ , I need to get laid.”

The look he gave Rhys was significant and meaningful, though he had said nothing else and simply went back to his desk and sat down heavily in his plush desk chair. He casually picked his keyboard up from where he'd tossed it on the floor, humming in pleasant surprise that it wasn't broken, and went back to working as soon as he'd reconnected it.

Somehow, Jack making such a flagrantly sexual comment towards his PA seemed to have broken some seal. Although Jack had already been doing similar for quite some time, Rhys started to find himself fantasizing about his boss after that incident. The memory of Jack's breath billowing in his face and mixing with his own, the wild look in his eyes, the slam of his fist so close to Rhys's face, all of it replayed in his dreams and had him waking in the night shaking and panting in cum-soaked boxers. He eventually found himself unable to touch himself without thinking of it, imagining that the hand on his cock was Jack's, cumming into his fist with long low moans that he imagined Jack praising him for.

From that day on, the two found it difficult to look each other in the eye without one of them glancing away. Jack started to have Rhys run more errands for him outside of the office, seemingly wanting to separate them for as long as possible. At first, Rhys had been offended by it, secretly terrified that Jack regretted the very notion of being attracted to a person like him. As time went on, though, Rhys started to think that maybe it was _guilt_ that motivated Jack. He seemed strangely awkward when the two had been together from then on, talking much more than usual and fidgeting during their conversations, though they were still rather brief.

It's taken a good few weeks after that event before Rhys finally hears a legitimate and strangely formal apology from his boss. Jack asks Rhys to make copies for him, something important enough for him to bother keeping in his physical records, but he catches Rhys by the sleeve before he can turn to leave.

“I'm sorry,” he says, and he locks eyes with his PA with obvious sincerity in his expression. “Look, I shouldn't have gotten so, uh... riled up.” He clears his throat and brings his hand back to rest near the other, tapping away at the surface of his desk in anxiety. “What I did was really... unacceptable. I shouldn't take my anger out on you, and I especially shouldn't...” His face flushes and he trails off, suddenly seeming distracted by something on his monitor.

Rhys crosses his arms and gives Jack the smuggest smile he can manage. “Shouldn't what?” He leans forward, not close enough to really be in the CEO's personal space but certainly enough to ensure his attention. “You shouldn't proposition me during work?”

  
  


The older man looks back up with a scowl, and he crosses his arms almost defiantly. “ _Yes_ ,” he huffs, “I shouldn't do that. It was very... unprofessional of me.”

“When have you ever been professional?” There's a self-satisfied grin on Rhys's face, and he braces his hands on Jack's desk. “Come on, Sir, I know why you hired me. Just surprised you haven't enforced some kind of _dress code_ yet.”

Jack squares his shoulders and raises his eyebrows in feigned disinterest. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he objects, sticking his nose up in defiance. “I hired you because I needed an assistant.”

“You hired me so you could make me clean your floors while you stare at my ass.” Rhys almost snaps the words out, huffing as he watches the way Jack blinks in surprise at his sudden forwardness.

Although Rhys has been fully expecting for Jack to stick to his guns and continue keep up his illusion of innocence, he somehow isn't surprised when the CEO rises from his chair and matches Rhys's posture until their faces are only inches away from each other. The closeness of it brings back the memory of their first confrontation, and Rhys can't help the wave of arousal it brings.

It seems for a moment that Jack is silent in contemplation, trying to seek out the right words. Before either man can break the silence, though, Jack grabs his PA by the tie and pulls him into a violent kiss. He growls as he forces his tongue into Rhys's mouth, exploring his teeth and pulling back to leave harsh bites against his employee's lips which he know will turn a beautiful shade of red.

Rhys comes away from the kiss nearly shaking, his breath coming in heavy pants as he brings a hand up to inspect his bruised lip with a few gentle touches of his fingertips to the swollen skin. He immediately remembers the papers he's meant to copy, realizing that he probably looks much too disheveled to leave the office in his current state, and he looks down at the papers where he's left them on the corner of Jack's desk.

“You want me to fuck you or are you just happy doing errands?” Jack has noticed Rhys's wide, anxious eyes focusing on something other than him, and the very notion of it seems to have offended him. The tone of his voice isn't one of a question, and when Rhys looks over to him Jack has his hands on his hips as he looks down at his nose at his PA. “Make up your mind. It's one or the other and I don't have all fucking day, Rhys.”

With Jack's rather sudden shift in attitude, it isn't difficult for Rhys to make his decision. He locks eyes with Jack as confidently as he can manage, and in a move that seems to actually shock the CEO, Rhys leans forward and plants a gentle, chaste kiss against the line between Jack's mask and the natural skin below.

A little huff of surprise escapes Jack despite himself, though he almost immediately recovers from it and grabs Rhys by the collar. He pulls the younger man in so that their noses are pressed against one another, letting out another menacing growl before crashing his lips against Rhys's one more time.

Jack pulls away with a sigh that edges on a moan, releasing his employee and taking a step back. He motions for Rhys to make his way around the other side of the desk, pushing his chair back so that the two can stand facing each other. At first, Rhys is surprised by the almost gentle smile that crosses Jack's lips, though the moment the CEO's hands come to his hips he knows that he's correct in his assumption that Handsome Jack has very little grasp on the concept of _gentle_.

Before his brain can really process what's happening, Rhys finds himself with his face being slammed into his boss's desk. The base of the monitor rattles with the reverberation it sends through the wood, several pens going rolling off the side. He feels Jack's hands at his belt, deftly undoing the buckle and pulling it out through the loops. He pushes Rhys's pants down to his ankles, folding the belt over itself and commanding Rhys to bite down on it, which he does without complaint.

A heavy slap to Rhys's half-clothed ass brings a sharp wail from the younger man. “You wear these just for me?” Jack loops a finger under the band of Rhys's underwear. They're a pair of mottled grey panties, ones that aren't particularly fancy but are amazingly soft, the waist of them lined with a pale pastel pink. The CEO snaps the elastic where it comes around Rhys's leg, letting out a low hum at the sight of the younger man involuntarily flinching. He watches as Rhys shakes his head in response, his PA riding his dress shirt up at the back and wiggling his ass playfully.

Rhys hears Jack's belt unbuckle and his jeans hit the floor, his body heating in arousal at the sound of it, his mind racing in anticipation. Although he's tempted to turn and look over his shoulder, desperate to know what his boss's cock really looks like after so much time spent imagining it, he resists and keeps his eyes locked on the door at the opposite end of the room. Although he can't be sure that Jack would punish him for turning to look, something tells him that there's a real chance he would end up with several bright red hand prints on his ass should he try.

The feeling of Jack's erection pressing against Rhys's panties makes the younger man jump in surprise. He slowly rolls his hips back to encourage Jack to rut against him, though his boss only stands there still. After a moment the younger man stops, risking a glance back at Jack. The CEO looks down at him with icy eyes, grabbing Rhys by the back of his head and pushing his face down into the surface of the desk. “Keep going,” Jack says simply, keeping the pressure of one hand on Rhys's head as the other holds him down with firm pressure between his shoulder blades.

A wave of defiance sweeps over Rhys at that, and he spits the belt out onto the desk next to him, pushing his head up against Jack's hand. “You're just gonna grind on my panties?” He grunts when the older man slams his head down again, pushing back against him enough so he can still talk. “I better at least be getting paid for this.”

There's a low growl next to his ear as Jack leans down, his breath hot on Rhys's neck as he grazes his teeth over the delicate skin just under his jawline. “You're goddamn right I'm paying you, you little slut.” Jack braces his hands at the sides of Rhys's head, digging his nails into the wood as he grinds his cock down against the younger man's ass in a surprisingly animalistic way. “You're a fucking whore, aren't you?” He bites hard at Rhys' neck, just over his tattoo. “Tell me you're Handsome Jack's little whore.”

Rhys huffs, pushing back against Jack's cock hard enough to make the older man let out a shaky sigh. “If anyone's the slut here I think you are, Sir.” He can feel Jack's lips curl into a snarl against his skin, but the CEO says nothing and instead thrusts into the soft fabric of his PA's velvety panties. “You're the one who hired me just to have some eye candy to jerk off to during your lunch break. Bet this desk is _soaked_ with cum.”

Jack abruptly pulls away, grabbing Rhys's belt from where it's ended up sitting on the desk next to him, and Rhys immediately knows exactly what's about to happen. He hears the metallic jingling of the buckle as Jack wraps it around his hand, and it isn't much longer before the belt comes down against Rhys's ass.

A jolt of pain causes Rhys to whine out and grit his teeth, scrabbling at the side of the desk as he tries not to wail out loud. He's now glad that Jack has left his panties on him; at first he had worried about getting cum all over them, being as they were expensive to buy, but at least they cushion the blow of the faux leather against his skin. Where the belt had hit his bare flesh he can already feel a welt starting to form, and he hisses in pain as Jack runs his thumb over the growing red mark.

“Watch your dirty whore mouth, Rhys.” Jack's tone is pitched deep, breathy and tinged with an unspoken threat, one which suggests that he has much more pain left to inflict. “Tell me you're sorry.”

There's a long moment of silence as neither man says anything, Rhys holding his tongue defiantly and Jack waiting for Rhys to acquiesce. With no warning, the belt comes whistling through the air again and strikes Rhys on his upper thigh, wrapping most of the way around so that he can tell a long red line will be stretching around his leg later. He squirms and shoves his face into the desk under him, groaning as the blow is followed by another in quick succession to match it on the other side. “ _Tell Handsome Jack that you're sorry_.”

Without any further prompting, Rhys caves. “I'm sorry!” He lets out a sob, scrabbling at the desk as he tries not to let his shaking legs go out from under him. “I'm sorry, Sir.”

A breathy whisper sounds behind Rhys as Jack caresses his ass, preparing for another strike with the other hand. “Say my fucking name, kitten.”

“I'm sorry, Handsome Jack!” He braces himself for another hit, his body tensing, but it never comes. “I'm so sorry, Sir. I'm sorry for talking back to you, Handsome Jack.” He rests his cheek against the desk, the wood pleasantly cool against his burning face.

Rhys hears the belt clatter to the tile floor as Jack drops it, his hands coming to yank his PA's panties about halfway down his thighs. He feels Jack's cock slap against his ass right over the stinging marks left by the belt, one of the desk drawers opening and closing as Jack grabs something. Rhys can hear as the CEO pours out some lube, the sound of his slick hand over his cock, and for a moment the younger man panics.

“Jack, I need to get myself ready.”

The CEO huffs dismissively. “Cool it, pumpkin,” he chides, “I've got a meeting in ten. Besides, you really think I'd fuck a whore like you without a condom on?” He snorts out a laugh and slaps his cock against the small of Rhys's back, a loud wet sound coming from the contact and lube smearing over the younger man's bare skin. He feels a wave of shame go through him at his boss's words, but he can feel his cock twitch and a bead of precum wet the tip of his aching prick.

Jack lets out a quiet sigh as he starts to stroke himself, the head of his cock rubbing at Rhys's skin and spreading precum and lube over the faint red marks left along his waist by his panties. It isn't long before he starts to grunt as he thrusts hard into his fist, bringing his free hand to grab at Rhys's hair. “I'm gonna tell you what's gonna happen here,” Jack growls out. “I'm gonna cum all over you— your back, your hair, your clothes— and you're gonna walk around with my cum on you for the rest of the day. You're gonna go make those copies for me and get your sweet little ass back here as soon as you're done. If I'm in my meeting, you walk right the fuck in here, hand those papers to me and go back to organizing my bookshelf _without a goddamn word_.”

Before Rhys can respond, Jack lets out a long, low groan and starts to shoot thick, hot ropes of cum down the ridge of Rhys's spine. The younger man lets out a squeak of surprise as he feels it start to soak into his hair and through his shirt, Jack staying true to his word and well and truly covering him.

The sound of Jack zipping up his fly makes Rhys turn to glance at him. The CEO picks up his PA's belt and sits it down on the desk, pulling the younger man's panties and slacks back up and smoothing Rhys's shirt down over his back as much as he can. “Stand up, kiddo.” Rhys does as he's told, not daring to speak, and Jack gives him a gentle, understanding look as his assistant turns toward him. He hands Rhys his belt, watching with a pleased grin on his face as the younger man tucks his still-leaking cock into his panties, zips his slacks back up and lacing his belt back through his belt loops.

To Rhys's surprise, Jack pecks a gentle kiss against his cheek. “Get those copies made and as soon as this meeting's over I'll get you some lotion or somethin' and you can use my private shower to clean up.”

As Rhys gathers the now minorly crumpled stack of paper and heads for the door, trying to tuck his shirt and tie into the waistband of his pants, he hears Jack's voice from behind him and pauses at the door. “Oh, cupcake?” The CEO flashes Rhys a bright smile. “If anybody asks about your, uh... _current state_? You just tell em to take it up with Handsome Jack.”

 


	12. Day 12: Pet Play/ Costume

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jgidkgdfg forgive me i have a migraine so this is probably all garbage XDD ive never written pet play before either lmao so welcome to the trash heap lol

There's a steady clacking sound as Rhys steps from the adjoining spare bedroom onto the tile floor of Jack's office. He walks with surprising ease in sharp black stilettos, ones that nearly look wet with how reflective the slick black material is.

Jack's gaze is immediately torn away from his monitor as he hears Rhys approaching, his breath getting caught in his throat as he turns to look at the younger man.

Rhys has made mention of his current outfit several times during his (frankly inappropriate) office romance with the CEO, a means to flirt and nothing more seeing as he never planned on wearing it for Jack. When his boss insisted that he put his money where he mouth is, though, Rhys happily scurried off to fetch it.

The thing is admittedly a sight to behold, especially around Rhys's slender frame. He sports what looks like a strapless dress made of pure black latex, a keyhole cut out over his chest in the shape of a heart. The bottom hem of the dress barely even reaches the tops of his thighs, the material of it doing absolutely nothing to hide his stiffening cock.

What Jack's _most_ interested in, though, are the gloves, ears and tail. An adorable set of fluffy black cat ears part Rhys's hair, held onto his head with a lacy headband, and behind his swaying hips Jack can just see a tail swishing back and forth..

“You look fucking amazing,” Jack breathes once his employee comes to stand in front of him. The words come out much shakier than he had intended, and Rhys gives him a little chuckle at how the CEO sits there staring at him in shock and awe.

That's when Rhys decides to run one gloved finger across Jack's jawline, hoping to snap the older man out of his trance. Only then does Jack realize that the gloves Rhys wears have long pointed black claws at the end, and the feeling of the tip of one ghosting over his skin is enough to make him shiver.

“Go on, kitten, get on your knees,” he huffs, and he spreads his legs for Rhys, feeling them shake in anticipation. Rhys returns the command with a sly, defiant smile and takes a pace forward, caressing Jack's cheek slowly and gingerly with his slick latex gloves, smiling at him almost lovingly before he turns to show the CEO his ass.

Jack only has a minute to process things before Rhys sits down in his lap rather heavily, holding his tail to the side so he can grind his mostly bare ass against the older man's clothed cock.

With a wicked grin crossing his face, Jack grabs Rhys's tail and gives a little pull. He feels the tension he puts on it give a little as the plug at the opposite end slips, and as Rhys gives a whine and tenses to keep it in, Jack drops it.

“Cute,” the CEO murmurs almost impassively, running his fingers over the soft faux fur. “You're a kinky little fuck, aren't ya kitten?” Rhys looks over his shoulder demurely and gives a little nod, his face red as if he's embarrassed. Jack hums in thought for a moment, his hands coming down to Rhys's hips, and presses his fingers delicately at the line where the younger man's flawless skin meets with the hem of his dress. Jack runs his thumbs over the slick latex in slow circles, kissing gently at the back of Rhys's neck. “Go on, kitten,” he whispers against the shell of Rhys's ear, “how about you grind that cute little ass against Daddy?”

Rhys gives Jack a little huff, but before he can carry out his plan of disobeying, he feels the older man tug at his hips. As he starts to slowly rock himself back and forth he hears Jack let out a little sigh, and he's shocked as he feels his boss's tongue lick a slow stripe from his left shoulder all the way up to his ear. The warmth of it quickly starts to fade so that Rhys is left with a cold stripe up his skin, Jack busying himself by matching it on the other side. The younger man can't help but let out a whine at the feeling, picking up his pace and being rewarded with a weak groan.

Suddenly, Jack pushes Rhys off of him, forcing him to the floor with a heavy hand on his shoulder. The younger man luckily manages not to twist an ankle as he scrabbles to get his footing in his heels, and his knees hit the floor a little bit too hard, though he doesn't complain and instead looks up at Jack with wide, misty eyes.

Jack wastes very little time undoing his fly, pulling his cock out, already leaking precum down his shaft. He looks down his nose at Rhys and gives him a wolfish grin, scooting his chair just a bit closer so that his prick bobs just above the younger man's face. “Here, kitty,” he says, his tone gently condescending, “Daddy's got a treat for ya.”

Rhys lets out a quiet whine as he laps a small stripe up the older man's cock, letting out a little moan at the taste of precum on his tongue, thick and musky. His mouth start to water as he wraps his lips around the head of his boss's leaking prick, humming around him as he starts to bob his head. Jack bites his lip, letting himself relax back into his chair as he brings a hand to Rhys's head. Careful not to knock the headband off, Jack starts to slowly stroke his forefinger over one of the cat ears, the faux fur silky against his skin.

“Come on kitten, I know you can give a better blowjob than that.” Jack is smirking down at him when Rhys looks up, and although the younger man frowns in response he does start to bob his head faster and deeper, hollowing his cheeks and letting out little moans and whines around the leaking cock in his mouth. His boss seems pleased, moving his hand away so he can drape his arms over the armrests of his chair, sighing and slowly rolling his hips forward into the heat of his lover's mouth. “ _Fuck_ yes, Rhys, just like that.”

The sound of Jack's voice breaking in pleasure makes Jack whine quietly around him, the sounds of Jack's pleasure only spurring him on, eager to please his Master. As he bobs his head back down along Jack's shaft he expertly opens his throat to take him all the way in. As soon as Rhys's nose presses against Jack's pelvis, the older man's hand is in is hair again, rubbing slow circles at the base of one of his cat ears. When Rhys glances up at him from under his eyelids, Jack has a pleased smile on his face, the two staring at each other for a short second before the CEO rather suddenly takes Rhys by the back of his head and starts to thrust into his throat.

Rhys can't help but choke despite his best efforts not to. Jack pulls away for a short moment to let his employee get a breath in, but he almost immediately pulls Rhys back down on his cock and starts to thrust desperately.

“Fuck, kitten,” Jack growls out, “you feel so goddamn good.” He lets his head fall back against the headrest of his chair, tightening his grip in Rhys's hair as he lets out a low moan. “Ah fuck, sweetheart. Such a good kitty.” The way Jack starts to pant and groan is a surefire sign to Rhys that his boss is about to cum, though the younger man hits his hand against Jack's thigh to signal he needs air before Jack does so.

With a huff of annoyance, Jack releases Rhys and lets him pull back to take in a quick breath. As Rhys goes to take Jack's cock back into his mouth, though, his hair is grabbed and pulled back harshly enough to make his headband slip. He pushes it back into place as he looks up to study Jack, his boss smirking wickedly.

Almost immediately, Jack takes his hand from Rhys's hair and instead starts to stroke his throbbing cock, slapping it against Rhys's cheek with a strangely sadistic laugh at the way Rhys pouts in embarrassment. “You ready for your Master to cum all over your face, sweetpea?” As Rhys answers with a shy nod, Jack uses his free hand to tilt Rhys's head back by his chin. “Open up, kitty.”

Rhys obediently opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out and flicking the tip of it at Jack's slit. His boss just strokes himself faster, hips angling up into his fist and low moans escaping him as he starts to completely lose his composure.

Jack cums with a loud, long sigh of 'yes,' letting his head fall back as he shoots ropes of cum all over Rhys's face. The younger man whines as he tries to catch most of it in his mouth, but the way that Jack bucks erratically makes it get all over his face and hair, dripping down his cheeks onto his dress and to the floor. As soon as Jack has finished, Rhys swallows down his cum, wiping away what threatens to drip into his eye.

“Jesus you make a pretty cumdump, don't ya, kitty?” Jack sighs in satisfaction and reaches down to run his thumb over one of Rhys's velvety ears, humming as he frowns. “Damn, I dunno that this cum is gonna wash out.” At Rhys's little pout in response, Jack leans down and gently kisses his forehead, licking his own cum off of his lips with a dark chuckle. “Don't you worry baby,” he soothes, gently stroking the younger man's cheek. “We'll get you some new ones. Something nicer, huh? Only the best for my precious little kitten.”

 


End file.
